


Temerity

by Arukou



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Jane Austen Fusion, Alternate Universe - Regency, Background Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanov - Freeform, Background Relationships, Background Rhodey/Carol, Classism, M/M, Non-powered AU, Persuasion Fusion, Primi/Secundi dynamics, Regency-style writing, Stony Trumps Hate 2017, world-building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-03-10 07:40:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 42,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13497630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arukou/pseuds/Arukou
Summary: After a tumultuous youthful affair with Steven Rogers was cut short by the misgivings of friends and family, Master Anthony Stark has spent seven years browbeaten by his father and brother. When at last reunited with Steven, now a Captain in His Majesty's Royal Navy, Anthony is resigned to bear the brunt of Steven's anger and the continued conjugal machinations of the Misters Stark, as well as his friends' well-meaning meddling. A trip across England in the company of Captain Rogers, however, will put Anthony's resolve to the test.





	1. Ch 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snnaaft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snnaaft/gifts).



> This is my Stony Trumps Hate fic for Rae Sparrow (snnaaft), who won my auction block. They requested a Steve/Tony Regency romance styled after Jane Austen's _Persuasion_ , and I have done my level best to deliver. I did a fair amount of research and prep for this, but I am only human and I suspect I have made many mistakes. Please be kind with me. A minor note to begin this, but the title Mg is short for Magne, which is a title of my own inventing. I'm hoping the reasons for this extra title will become clear as you read the fic, but if you find yourself confused by the world-building, there are further notes linked at the end.
> 
> Huge massive thanks to [LadyShadowDrake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyshadowdrake/pseuds/ladyshadowdrake) and [MusicalLuna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalLuna/pseuds/MusicalLuna) for all their help in putting this fic together.
> 
> I'll be updating the fic every Saturday.

Though not proper to speak of it in polite society, those who dwell in the circles of good-breeding are well aware that amiability is not necessarily a trait that automatically accompanies those blessed with fortunes of a more material nature. Advantageous prospects may allow a family finery, society, friendship, favour, and even a certain beauty brought about by those tinctures and feasts available to them, but no amount of money can ensure that a family will take on manners to a sufficient degree that they might be smiled upon by their surrounding society, praised and complemented for their cordiality rather than their cabinetry. Let it be said, however, that money frequently does allow for such flaws of character to be overlooked as a matter of course, and even more so in country villages, where lack of society often leads to strange acquaintances. Such it was with the Starks. The patriarch, Howard, having in his early years been more duly diligent in minding business and holdings, had grown his already sizeable fortune to such a degree that he was sought after even by suitors from abroad. Thus he met and eventually wed Maria Carbonell, a witty Italian marchioness from a quaint town in the Grand Duchy of Tuscany, and in the years following their union, their holdings in the south of England grew, such that Mr Stark was able to invest in ventures further afield. Growing influence and the demands of business often left Mrs Stark alone with their eldest, Gregory, and their new-born Anthony, and though she took great pride in her progeny and loved them with all the due affections of a mother, the loneliness of being a foreigner in unfamiliar society without even a husband at her arm took a toll on Mrs Stark’s health. Matters were made worse by the fact that Anthony, precious though he was, had given her a difficult birth, and in the months following his arrival both their constitutions were weak at best, forcing the appointment of a wet-nurse for the babe and a second nurse for the mother. By Anthony’s second year, Mrs Stark’s condition had worsened until the surgeon feared the worst and Mr Stark was recalled from abroad, arriving only in time to see his wife expire.

Thereafter Mr Stark stayed closer to home, where he took an active interest in his eldest son Gregory. Anthony however did not yet possess the powers of speech and was ill of health besides, and thus remained largely in the charge of others, resulting in an elder the very picture of the father and a younger the very picture of the mother, though he was barely raised by her hand at all. Were it not for the society of their neighbour three miles hence, Duchess Margaret of Carter, Anthony might have languished alone in the Stark manor house with no companions his age to speak of and only the care of the kindly head butler to bring the boy any sort of joy at all. The Duchess of Carter, though, saw quickly enough that time abroad had lent Mr Stark to airs of grandeur and vanity in turn, and without Mrs Stark’s steady management of the home estate, Mr Stark’s society quickly became regrettably haughty and in truth, at times unbearable. He made companions of the worst kinds of businessmen, those quicker to tally coins and accounts than to speak of art or poetry, and the eldest Gregory copied him to the letter, young though he was. Her Ladyship saw hope, however, in Anthony.

Through her own artful influence, she suggested to Mr Stark that her recently deceased curate’s son, a boy the very age of Anthony, might make a proper companion for a babe so young and yet so bereft in the world and furthermore, Steven’s mother Mrs Sarah Rogers was of a motherly disposition and might be glad of a second child in the household, especially as in her widowed state she would have only Steven for company. For all his vanity, Mr Stark valued Her Ladyship’s opinion, her good breeding and fortitude of character, and so he acquiesced that the nurse would bring Anthony to the cottage the Rogers rented from the Duchess no less than once a week.

As the boys aged, friendship bloomed between them, well-watered by a similarity of youthful character which gave their nurse and the Widow Rogers trouble twice what might be expected from two healthy children, let alone boys with the poor constitutions of Anthony and Steven. They became nigh inseparable, sharing the kind of intimacy expected of brothers, and when the day came that young Anthony was to be sent to school, Steven was inconsolable. Anthony, too, in tears was away in the coach. The fuss needn’t have been made, for London disagreed with Anthony’s weak heart, and after some consultation between Her Ladyship and Mr Stark, it was decided that Anthony would be tutored at her estate under the finest private teachers available to her, not only in the gracious arts expected of a secundi, such as musical performance and dancing, but also in literature and mathematics, the sciences and politics. Duchess Margaret argued that even if Anthony’s destiny was to manage a household, he would make a finer partner if he were conversant in matters which might interest a primi. And if the young Steven, too, happened to sit in on the lessons, the teachers held their peace and suffered the rambunctiousness of two children rather than one.

The whiles of time flowed over the Starks, the Carters, and the Rogers. As they aged, Anthony and Steven were more and more kept apart by unfortunate circumstances of birth. Where Anthony was invited to make society with the Rhodes and the Danvers families, Steven was often relegated to his mother’s cottage, where he helped her piece fabric and knit. His sickly constitution plagued him such that even if he were of a station to join such fine society, his health would’ve prevented him all but the quietest of gatherings. In lieu of young companionship, Steven eagerly took up all that Duchess Margaret provided him with—he was an avid reader and the Duchy’s library was always open to him. He proved himself knowledgeable and able in all manner of subjects and Her Ladyship often sighed to Mrs Rogers that Steven would have been a better heir to Howard Stark than Gregory ever would be.

Indeed, Gregory had grown to be as vain and poor a judge of character as his father, making society with speculators and other less savoury men who promised him even greater wealth than was already prepared for him in inheritance. Her Ladyship would have worried for Anthony’s future and the Stark family reputation had Gregory not proved himself as shrewd, if not more so, than the elder Mr Stark. Gregory’s business acumen was such that by the time he reached twenty, he had ensured that his father’s estate would remain stable and expanded their holdings to the spice trade, granting him favour with nobility who otherwise might have shunned the society of a common, if wealthy, man. He was regarded as a business prodigy among men, and Her Ladyship often lamented what this meant for the younger Stark, who was as acute as his older brother all while being better mannered and a great deal more charming, but could not, for all the reasons listed before, circle in society as his brother and father did.

The wealth of the Starks drew suitors, though the appalling manners of the Misters Stark often dispelled the sensible enquirers, even if Anthony himself was fetching enough. Those who stubbornly remained, whether by greed or their own lack of manners, were made to be disappointed for Gregory seemed uninterested in overtures of the heart and instead contented himself with finding eligible primi to thrust upon young Anthony. The town and all those in their society determined then that it would be Anthony married first and out of the Stark household, which was only to be expected given the general indifference with which both father and eldest regarded him. Indeed, both Starks rather felt that Anthony’s unusual upbringing—making society with those below his birth and educating himself in subjects unbefitting his station—had been, in hindsight, a poor decision. It lowered him in their eyes, and Mr Stark regretted ever having heeded the Duchess of Carter’s advice to befriend the boy to Steven Rogers or educate him under her tutelage. Her wild notions may have eased Anthony’s loneliness and provided him proper social outlets for a boy of his age, but the stain upon their family was unforgiveable in the patriarch’s eyes—though he was willing enough to turn a blind eye to Gregory’s less-than-savoury business associates. Mr Stark regretted the association with the Rogers all the more because it was clear enough, with both boys now at seventeen and on the cusp of adulthood, that what had once been friendship had bloomed into something far more troublesome.

As spring gradually warmed into balmy summer, the elder Mr Stark feared he might be forced to engineer some circumstance to send Anthony away, especially when more than one report reached him of Anthony and Steven strolling hand-in-hand on the Duchess’ lands. He need not have worried however, for Anthony’s society were already doing Mr Stark’s work for him. The Lady Janet Van Dyne had foremost influence on Anthony’s actions and opinions, having met him during his short time at school. She had befriended him and remained ever a faithful companion thereafter, though they had only been able to see each other thrice in the years since he quitted the school. Their correspondence was prolific, and on days when his heart troubled him, Anthony would sequester himself to his study where he might pen yet another missive to her detailing this or that book or describing the changing of the seasons, but more frequently doting on Steven Rogers and his fine companionship. Lady Janet had herself never met Mr Rogers, but having been courted and spurned once before, knew the dangers of lowering oneself in society, even in the name of an emotion so all-encompassing as love. And from Anthony’s letters she also knew that Mr Rogers did not seem to return equal affection, a worry which plagued Anthony endlessly and fed his already great doubts about his own character. Lady Janet wished to spare Anthony more hurt than had already been caused by a cold and distant father and brother, and if the love between Steven and Anthony was only one-sided, she feared all the more for Anthony’s heart.

When he wrote to her expressing his intention to appeal to Steven and elope to London, she penned him a return the very same day and sent it with the fastest couriers. Her letter urged caution and listed all her reasons for believing elopement to be a dangerous and, though it pained her to use such a slight, foolhardy action, and she implored Anthony to instead come and see her at her family’s estate where they could better discuss the qualities that a proper partner might possess. This letter gave Anthony pause, but it was not enough, alone to dissuade him. Instead it was the counsel of his dearest friend James Rhodes, which finally persuaded Anthony to give up on hopes of wedding Steven Rogers. Lt Rhodes was four years Anthony’s senior and fancied himself something of the brother Gregory had never become. Though their families were acquainted, he and Anthony had become close only when the army passed through the village three miles down the way from the Stark estate, at which time he had felt an instant affection for the younger man. While the army wintered in the village, Lt Rhodes spent a great deal of time making more society within Anthony’s circle, sharing what books he could and engaging Anthony intellectually in a manner that previous society had never afforded him. Though not a navy man, Lt Rhodes had grown up in a ship-building family and was well versed in the arts that produced the fleet, a field which endlessly fascinated Anthony, and together they spent many an afternoon discussing the finer details of ship craft and the newest innovations being employed in His Majesty’s Royal Navy. When the army moved on in spring, the Lieutenant made it a point to maintain correspondence with Anthony and furthermore, to visit him whenever the opportunity arose, which was often, given the proximity of his family. It was on just such an occasion when Anthony made up his mind to ask Steven whether or not they might marry and in preparation, wrote to Lady Janet. Her reply was quickly shared with the Lieutenant, and on reading her responses, Rhodes too found himself doubting.

Unlike the Lady, he had met Steven Rogers and found him to be an amiable fellow, if stubborn, prideful, and worringly frail. However, that had been in the capacity of friendship. Rhodes had not realized how far Anthony’s affections had progressed, and viewed in that light, he found the prospect of their union frightening for different reasons. In the ways of a living, they would have only the charity of Anthony’s family to rely upon, and being also acquainted with Mr Stark and Gregory Stark, Rhodes was aware of the disdainful feelings both harboured towards those of inferior rank. The Lieutenant suspected that elopement would be reason enough for the Starks to cut off all support to Anthony, and without that connection, how would Mr Rogers and Anthony make their way in the world? The answer was unclear to Rhodes and so, after much deliberation, he too turned to Anthony and urged him to rethink the notion of proposal and instead to take up Lady Janet’s offer to visit. “Tony, you must know, I caution you only because I love you, but to bring down your father’s ire in this way would be a blight upon any marriage, and if, as Lady Van Dyne says, Mr Rogers does not love you as you profess to love him, I fear the union would be doomed from its very inception.”

Having been doubly cautioned, heartbroken, Anthony consented and made arrangements to away for the summer to the Van Dyne estate. When he told Steven that he would be gone these next three months and possibly longer, Steven knew enough of society to see Anthony’s estrangement for what it was. Disconsolate, he fled from Anthony’s company and refused to answer any letter penned to him while Anthony was away. When next Anthony returned to the Stark estate, he discovered that Steven Rogers had quit the village and enlisted in the navy to ease the burden placed on his mother, who was now getting on in years and herself growing frail as Steven had been. At this news, Anthony was so overcome with emotion that he had to exit the parlour and retreat to his study for the better part of a day, brimming with guilt and convinced that he’d seen the last of Steven Rogers, who surely was too sickly for the navy and who would likely breathe his last somewhere on the distant high seas without Anthony having ever been given the chance to apologize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> World-building notes [here](http://arukou-arukou.tumblr.com/post/170199902251/primisecundi-notes).
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](http://arukou-arukou.tumblr.com/) for more fanfiction and nerdery.


	2. Ch 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Years passed and Anthony grew ever more despondent of finding a life partner. In his hour of darkest despair, it was announced that the navy would be withdrawing at last.

As London had not agreed with Anthony, so he expected that it would dash Steven’s own naval aspirations, yet astonishingly it had the opposite effect—reports reached Anthony through Her Ladyship that the society of London, and of one surgeon in particular, had turned Steven’s health for the better. Alongside an extremely late gain in height, he was now apparently the picture of masculine vigour, and the changes wrought upon him were such that he was able to enter the navy without any further delay. Following that news, Anthony read the naval reports diligently, squirreling them away in his study where he was at leisure to pore over them searching for mentions of the ship to which Steven had been appointed, the HMS Reserve. The Reserve darted here and there across the Atlantic, a swift ship under a worthy Captain, or so the reports lead Anthony to believe. He made every effort not to pester Her Ladyship for further details, but she, who had watched him grow from infancy, always knew what Anthony’s heart and mind had set upon. She delivered her own reports regularly, in such a way that she hoped would assuage the young man’s fears while also cooling the passions of his heart. The parting had been difficult for all who witnessed it, and Duchess Margaret wished only to see both young men move on to worthy prospects.

To that end, though Steven was of low birth and little fortune, his education under Her Ladyship’s wing proved invaluable. Able to read and write, and having always had a mind for diplomacy and strategy, he proved accomplished and intelligent to the officers aboard the Reserve, and through Her Ladyship’s connections, Steven was accelerated into officership well before a man of his station might otherwise expect to rise through the ranks. Within three years, he was a midshipman, and thereafter ascended to Lieutenant aboard a new vessel, the HMS Eagle, under the direction of Capt Chester Phillips. Safely commissioned, the Duchess of Carter withdrew her influence, and trusted to fate and Steven’s own capabilities to ensure his further commission and good fortune.

It had been aboard the Reserve where Steven first made the acquaintance of one Mr James Barnes, the son of a gentlelady of some fortune, and himself a midshipman of some skill. Unlike the Rogers family, Ms Barnes and Mg Barnes had the means to send Mr Barnes to the Royal Academy, in spite of a brood of four children, and there Mr Barnes excelled at those skills and courses which had not been available to Steven in his childhood and education. Where Steven was now quiet and reserved, often to the point of standoffishness, Mr Barnes was gregarious and jolly, well-liked by all who met him and frequently invited into society. Steven, in turn, joined Mr Barnes’ circle and in time, by chance, met the very same Lady Janet who years earlier had counselled Anthony against a union. Steven, not privy to this knowledge, nonetheless ascertained that the Lady watched him more closely than would a new acquaintance and endeavoured that evening not to be parted from Mr Barnes’ side. In the years since he had left Kent, he had had neither the time nor the inclination for affections beyond a platonic nature, and though Lady Janet was fine of feature and a very accomplished secundi, he could not bring himself to be tempted.

He could not have known that the Lady was taking her own notes—uninspired by Lt Rogers’ decidedly cold nature, she wrote to Anthony and impressed upon him again that he had been wise to dispel any notions of intimate connection between them, and she wished furthermore, that once she could be sure of the Lieutenant’s absence, Anthony must come again to stay with her and discuss the finer details of her judgment. Her letter was a cold comfort to Anthony, for though Gregory pressed upon him caller after caller, he found them all inferior and was quick to dismiss their overtures in such a way as to not cause injury or distress. No, Anthony’s notions of what was most desirable in a partner had all been measured against one scale, and the intricacies of its weights and balances were such that only one soul in all of England might fit the description. Of course that soul had withdrawn his society and without him, Anthony could find no equal.

Within another year, Lt Rogers was promoted to Commander, and shortly thereafter, in the heat of battle elevated to Captain when Capt Phillips was gravely injured. In light of his heroics at sea, Capt Rogers was granted his own ship, the HMS Nomad, and brought on Mr Barnes as his Commander. The promotion, though it was cause for celebration at the Carter estate and also in the privacy of Anthony’s study, was quickly overshadowed by a sickness that assailed Widow Rogers most violently in the autumn of the year. Within days of its onset, she breathed her last, her son still abroad where no missive might reach him in time. The shadow of mourning was thrown over both Her Ladyship and Anthony, though society in all its iterations found it unbecoming for either of them to grieve for one so below their respective stations—it could not be helped. For the Duchess, Widow Rogers had been an intimate friend and confidant, a woman who advised the Duchess in her familial affairs when none of her children survived to adulthood, leaving her lonely and at the constant beck and call of would-be heirs scheming to be willed the estate. For Anthony, the Widow Rogers had been the mother he’d wished for, kind and firm, knowledgeable and affectionate, warm and familial in a way his father and brother had failed to emulate. In the weeks following her passing, Anthony agonized over his connection with Steven—to again attempt a letter or to let matters be as they had been before the loss of the Widow? Previous overtures of communique had been brushed aside with silence, and yet the matter was so grave that Anthony knew not whether he should overlook Steven’s—no, such intimacy was no longer suitable—Capt Rogers’ seeming indifference in this moment of trial for both of them. Upon consultation with Rhodes, who had been elevated to the rank of Major in the intervening years, Anthony determined that a letter from himself would only stir those feelings best left untouched, such feelings of resentment and anger as were not befitting a period of mourning.

It was nearly six months before Capt Rogers was at port in England again, journeying the hard late-winter roads inland and south to call at the plot where his mother was laid to rest. Anthony was cognizant of his presence in the village, and endeavoured to avoid all society so as to prevent a painful meeting. He need not have done so, for the Captain stayed only long enough to pay his respects and visit Her Ladyship before returning to his Nomad and the crew therein. Maj Rhodes, wintering in the village and a frequent guest at the Stark household, watched Anthony with the sharp knowing of an elder brother.

“It’s all right,” Anthony insisted one grey afternoon as they read by the fire. “I am quite recovered from the silly affections which so influenced me when I was younger. You see I am entirely indifferent to his presence.”

“Indeed. So indifferent that you make him a topic of conversation with no prior introduction or enquiry on my part.”

Anthony felt colour in his cheeks and hastily proffered his periodical to Maj Rhodes, extolling the virtues of the steam engine and what it might mean for the future of His Majesty’s Royal Navy, and moreover for the future of British industry. Shortly thereafter, Capt Carol Danvers called and Anthony was saved from further scrutiny by the flurry of conversation between Maj Rhodes and Capt Danvers. Anthony had known the Danvers family since childhood, and Capt Danvers had always been fond of him. As the primi of a respectable estate, she had entered the Royal Naval Academy, following a more traditional path to Captaincy than had Capt Rogers. Her ship, the HMS Marvel, was at dock being refitted after damages, and she had taken the opportunity to call home, where Anthony had introduced her to Maj Rhodes. It was immediately clear from their first meeting that Maj Rhodes and Capt Danvers felt some kinship, both endeavouring to make a fine and long military career before seeking retirement—though they teased each other endlessly on the differences between army and navy. Anthony was pleased to see his friends make such ready society and was hasty to encourage Maj Rhodes in further pursuit of intimacy even after the winter’s station was through. Anthony was ever a generous man and felt that though he could not have what his heart most desired, at the very least his dearest friends might achieve something of that ethereal happiness. Maj Rhodes seemed scandalized that Anthony had realized his attraction for Capt Danvers and blustered endlessly about, stating first and foremost that they were both primi and such things were not done.

“Nonsense, Jim. You are both primi, it is true, but I daresay times are changing?”

“Are they, Tony?” Jim asked wryly, and Anthony sensed in his words that he was referring to Anthony’s earlier romance and the vast difference in station that had stood between himself and Steven.

“One can only hope,” Anthony sighed, and nothing further was said on the matter.

He was grateful for the prolonged company Maj Rhodes and Capt Danvers provided him, for age and the gradual relinquishing of the control of the family holdings to Gregory Stark had made the elder Mr Stark ever more vain, haughty, and ill-mannered, and he hovered about the household like a dark, stormy cloud, commanding Anthony in all manner of household duties. Though they could afford maids, footmen, butlers, and groomsmen, Anthony was still made to do the most ridiculous chores—mending and cooking, polishing the family silver or seeing to tea for guests. It was all the most insulting sort of treatment, and in private Duchess Margaret chastised Mr Stark more than once for the way he used his younger son.

In addition to his appalling treatment of his own child, at intimate gatherings, Mr Stark favoured a cup of wine over finer company and his incessant smoking drove away the more delicate and younger companionship that Anthony might have preferred. Instead, their family entertained businessmen and financiers, the kind of society that ensured that Her Ladyship would not come to call, though she still invited them to dine every fortnight, more out of feelings of kindness and affection for Anthony than for his father and elder brother. Now charged with the care of her niece, who she had named heir in lieu of her own children, she was more guarded in her acquaintance and was loathe to expose the girl to ridicule through association. She also worried at Gregory Stark’s seeming indifference toward the production of an heir and feared in her heart that Gregory was of a mind for expediency rather than romance. Aware that her niece was perhaps the most expedient choice in local society, she used her considerable power and influence to ensure that the two were never allowed time without a chaperone, but her efforts had the unfortunate consequence of excluding Anthony from parties and gatherings he might otherwise have been invited to attend.

In the already small society of the village, Anthony found himself increasingly lonely. Nearly all of his friends had enlisted in service to the Crown, and Lady Janet, who did not serve, lived far enough that frequent visits were beyond the allowances of Anthony’s health. Though his heart had grown hardier with age, it still pained him from time to time, and he dared to guess that it was further exacerbated by the stresses his father placed upon him, though he spoke no such opinion aloud. In the Stark’s circle, there were only his father’s and brother’s friends, all of whom shewed Anthony only so much courtesy as was due his standing but otherwise shared little with him. Her Ladyship gave him what society she could, but with the newly added constraints she’d imposed upon the arrival of young Lady Sharon of Carter, her correspondence and attentions became less frequent. And while the Danvers and Rhodes welcomed him easily enough, without those who were closest to him in both age and intimacy, their kindly society served only as a brief respite which did nothing to ease the loneliness that now yawned before him. Capt Danvers’ younger brothers made an attempt at friendship, but they and Anthony quickly discovered they shared little in common—Joseph and Steven were sportsmen like their sister, though their mother scolded them frequently for their un-secundi-like behaviour. Anthony, on the other hand, preferred only leisure riding and could not abide the thought of shooting for sport. Even the old Stark butler, who had always been so kind to Anthony, was at last forced to retire, leaving not even his friendly face in the household.

Thus three more years passed, and Anthony began to fear he was doomed always to be caught in this state, eternally lacking in all companionship, save a steady stream of inadequate suitors and those feelings supplied by correspondence which, while welcome and a reminder that he still had true friends in the world, could in no way replace the warmth of true intimate society. Until, of course, with the partial withdrawal of the navy, it was announced that Steven Rogers would be returning to the village to stay at Her Ladyship’s estate while he arranged his own affairs. Now a commissioned officer with a tidy fortune to his name, it was rumoured he was in want of only two things—land and a life partner. The town buzzed with rumours and gossip, which Anthony could not help but hear, though he wished only to avoid any tidings, knowing that the happiness of another could once have been his own. He still regretted his actions many years ago, and felt he had treated Capt Rogers most unfairly. A steady procession of lacklustre suitors had taught Anthony that the Captain was truly a gem among primi, honourable, kind, and fair-minded where so many others were dismissive and often insufferable. And the whispers which reached him only exacerbated his pain. It was rumoured that the once poor and frail curate’s son was now the greatest specimen of a man, a handsome face and vigorous constitution which any person might consider themselves lucky to look upon. If this were not enough, another rumour flew that the Duchess of Carter’s patronage had not been merely out of the kindness of her heart, but for more self-serving reasons as well—she meant, the town had it, for Capt Rogers to be joined with her niece, thus ensuring her estate passed to one so close in bond he might be considered a son, and further ensuring that her niece would be able to maintain primary control of her fortune even as marriage transferred her wealth to a primi.

The Duchess of Carter herself did nothing to dissuade such reports, and Anthony could find no proper way to touch upon it without the subject first being introduced by another. He whiled away in agony on one of his rare visits alone to her household as she discussed the arrangements being made for the Captain’s imminent arrival. “I am told he will be bringing his friend and first officer, Cdr Barnes. It will be quite the to do after so much time with so few young people about the town. Perhaps we shall give a ball to welcome them all. What do you think of the idea, Anthony?”

“I’m afraid the prospect of dancing has always been one of difficulty for me, Lady Margaret. The surgeon has warned me that too much vigorous exertion might lead to a bout of heart palpitations, and I wouldn’t dare invite the occasion. I’m told that I look quite frightful when they come upon me.”

“Well, perhaps not palpitations of exertion, but palpitations of a different sort might be more than welcome, don’t you agree?” If the Duchess had a flaw, it was her own inscrutability. Anthony could not be sure if she was referring specifically to Capt Rogers—he could not believe that she had been unaware of their affections for one another all those years ago—or to the prospect of a wider society in which he might at last find someone who would ease his own solitude while at the same time fulfilling the wishes of his father and brother that he might at last leave the Stark estate for another holding and they be rid of him once and for all. Or if she was even referring specifically to him at all or more generally to the kind of intrigue any ball in small society invites.

“I would hardly know,” Anthony prevaricated and turned instead to Lady Sharon. “Perhaps My Lady has a more decided opinion on the subject.” Lady Sharon of Carter had been raised largely in London society in the shadow of her elder brother, who held the family’s main estate in his own right, and thus she had little experience with country affairs, but her arrival at the Carter estate had been a smooth one, and it was generally agreed upon by the local families that she was most accomplished and statuesque, if a bit stilted in her manner. Perhaps town, the other families mused, insisted on more formality than was to be had in the rolling green of their little county, but even so, she made friends with those worth knowing, and Lady Margaret had also announced that she had invited a cousin, a Ms Maria Hill, to join them in the coming summer for further companionship. Anthony, however, could not bring himself to be warm with Lady Sharon beyond that intercourse which was deemed proper between two young people—he could not forget the rumours, though he longed to banish them from his mind.

“I believe,” Lady Sharon said, delicately polishing a hunting rifle—for all that she and Lady Margaret had had only passing acquaintance prior to Lady Sharon’s appointment as heiress, they shared a great deal in common, including iron constitutions and a great love of hunting and sport—“that I should like to experience a country ball. It seems to me that the lack of ill vapours here would create for a rather charming experience, and I am always eager to learn new dances if I might.” Anthony wondered if the Lady Sharon truly had a love of dancing, or if she aimed only to dance with one partner to learn the measure of him. In either case, Anthony dreaded the prospect of a ball, and after a moment, turned the conversation to a recent philosophical treatise he knew Lady Margaret had acquired, his mind hardly on the conversation at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://arukou-arukou.tumblr.com/) for more fanfiction and nerdery.


	3. Ch 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At last, Anthony is forced to come face to face with the illustrious Capt Rogers

In late October, word reached Stark manor that Capt Rogers and Cdr Barnes were installed at the Carter estate, and Anthony felt as though the very air about him shimmered with a kind of oppressive warmth. Though he knew it ill-mannered, he plead out of outings to the village and three separate dinners amongst their acquaintances, and no one, least of all Mr Stark or Gregory Stark questioned him, especially when his countenance was so pallid and his skin always so clammy. A surgeon was called and it was concluded that Anthony’s nerves had taken a turn for the worse—as a result orders were issued that he was not to tax himself with those things which a young man twenty and four would otherwise find diverting. For Anthony, this was no great hardship, and it permitted him ample time locked away in his study to rest and recoup, though in truth he knew the root of his illness was not his nerves but rather the prospect that awaited him the moment he was recovered. He might have forever remained locked away—or at the very least until Capt Rogers quitted the county—had not Rhodes, now elevated to Lt Col, not interfered. He called on Anthony as often as was permitted, so much so that Mr Stark commented they might as well make one of the guest beds into Lt Col Rhodes’ personal suite, as he seemed to have been adopted into the family while the elder Stark’s head was turned.

For a time, the Lieutenant Colonel humoured Anthony’s whims, but in time, he grew impatient, and moreover feared what the prolonged illness might mean for Anthony’s prospects amongst the many eligible candidates who had flooded the country as the army and navy were recalled. For all Anthony’s fortune, a sickly husband was not a pleasing one, and Lt Col Rhodes meant to see his friend out from under the thumbs of his father and brother one way or another, if only for Anthony’s happiness. Though Anthony did not write about his father’s ill treatment of him, Lt Col Rhodes had now witnessed it first-hand, watching as Anthony repaired jacket after jacket as though the seams had deliberately been torn. He worried that Anthony’s illness was a direct result of this misuse, though he knew well enough that Anthony feared to face Capt Rogers as well. Lt Col Rhodes had never discovered in what manner the relationship had ended, only that it had and that Anthony refused to speak of it. However, he was a man of action, and firmly believed that the thing for Tony would be to face his fears and stare them down, and in doing so discover that his heart was healed and his pains disappeared. In light of the growing direness he saw in the situation, Lt Col Rhodes seized the opportunity to press his advantage when he saw it.

Early one afternoon, sequestered in Anthony’s study, he made his move. “Tony,” said he, “you cannot convince me that your nerves yet plague you. You have trounced me in chess five days running.”

“Ah, it’s only a span of luck, Jim. I’m sure come the morrow you’ll show me how the game is played.”

“My friend, flattery does not become you, nor does this uncharacteristic reticence to return to society. Do you not wish to see Capt Danvers? She returned this past fortnight and has been asking after you. Or perhaps travel would do you good. I’m sure the Lady Janet would welcome a visit, and as her estate is even further south than this one, the fresh air might breathe new vigour into you. It will be warmer there, for certain. The wind has already turned chill here.”

Anthony knew James well enough to know that any misrepresentation on his part would be quickly outed, and so he did not even make a pretence at pleading his health. “Do you think, Jim, that a return to society will cause me other pains? Pains for which there is no tincture? No surgeon?”

“Tony, you have always been a diverting speaker, but dramatics do not become you.”

“No, I suppose they do not.”

“You are a braver man than this, I know. Face him and be done with it. You have already resigned yourself to his having moved on, so why not meet him with perfect indifference? It is only by seeing him that you can at last be free to find another. Perhaps he is so much changed that those qualities which first drew you to him will be a distant memory.”

Anthony could not imagine it to be so, but he also saw the wisdom in Jim’s words. He acquiesced with grace enough, and that very night journeyed back to the Rhodes’ family household on horseback to dine with the family. Mr and Mrs Rhodes and Miss Jeanette Rhodes welcomed him as one of their own and they spent a diverting and gratifying evening at the piano forte. Anthony was a moderately accomplished player, having had ample time to practice in his younger years when other children were excelling at the more roguish arts, and Miss Rhodes sang as beautifully as a nightingale. When he returned to Stark Manor, the footman who cared for the horses commented on his improved colour and glowing air, and Anthony determined that Jim’s suggestion had indeed been wisdom. “It was not so bad,” he told himself, “to return to society,” though his greatest fear was yet unmet, and it remained only a shadow in his mind as he resumed his regular rounds, visiting the Rhodes, the Danvers, the Kennedys and additionally the other families that his father and brother were more likely to favour, though Anthony himself felt no great closeness to them. It was ten days after his convalescence that he was invited to dine at Lady Margaret’s estate, and he knew with the certainty of the fated stars that he would escape the meeting no longer. With that in mind, he dressed in his evening finery and rode out in the carriage with Mr Stark and Gregory.

“I do believe,” Gregory began, “that in her old age, Lady Margaret has begun to fade in every sense of the word. She was once such a great beauty, but her hair has already turned, and though I imagined it might be that fine distinguished silver such as one sees in other people of her rank, it instead seems to me to be a most brassy and dull color.”

“Indeed, she was the finest creature in the county when I was younger,” Mr Stark, agreed, petting his whiskers in a gesture both proud and haughty, “but I fear that age has sapped that from her.”

“I still find her quite agreeable,” Anthony said, distressed by his father and brother’s vanity and fearing that it might only continue through the meal. “She has remained fine of feature, and I believe age has added a certain delicacy and dignity to her visage. And her mind remains as witty and clever as ever it was.”

“Cleverness is not half so important as you make it out to be, Tony. What good is a clever man or woman if they cannot first draw the eye of society by means of their countenance. The Lady Margaret may have all her fine silks and laces, but who now would look at her?”

“What do you make of her niece?” Mr Stark asked, turning back towards his primi, a gleam in his eye such as he sometimes wore when considering new business investments. “She is perhaps more to your liking?”

“She is agreeable enough, though a cold creature if ever there was one. She barely deigns to speak with me, though I am closest to equal in her rank in the whole county. I believe Her Ladyship has turned her against me fully, and why should I put forth the effort to be cordial when she does not?”

Anthony’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment as his father and brother continued on in this vein, speaking of pedigree and presentation without hardly a favourable word for those qualities Anthony found infinitely more important—namely intellect, charm, demeanour, eloquence, and kindness. He only hoped that he might mitigate their poor conversation at the dinner party should the need arise, though he knew he would have steady aid from Lady Margaret and Capt Danvers, who would also be joining the party along with her family. He dreaded how it may appear to those two newcomers, one of whom had not seen how the span of seven years had changed his father and brother for the worse, and the other who would be forming a first opinion—a poor one, Anthony feared.

They were welcomed into the drawing room where the rest of the party already waited. The customary greetings were made and in all too short a time, they were presented to Capt Rogers and Cdr Barnes. Anthony could barely hide his shock—he had believed the rumours of Capt Rogers improved physique and late growth to be greatly exaggerated, but on at last seeing him in person he was struck dumb at the sight before him. Though Steven Rogers had been taller than Anthony even as a younger man, he had not yet ascended to where he now stood some several inches above the rest of the party, and where before he had been very slight, he now was robust of figure, truly the very picture of all that a primi should aspire to be. His demeanour, however, was much changed. Though the young Steven Rogers had never been as quick to laugh as Anthony, he had still had something of an air of mischief about him, a crooked smile which had ensnared Anthony as sure as any prey in whatever scheme Steven was planning. Yet now his face was a great deal more dour, stony and hard, barely showing any feeling at all—whether this stoicism was customary or was instead inspired by Anthony’s presence, he could not begin to guess. His companion Cdr Barnes proved much more amiable in his greetings, smiling winningly and laughing with an ease that at the very least gave Anthony some semblance of acceptance where there had been none with the Captain. Though shorter than Capt Rogers, Cdr Barnes was still an impressive man, darker and more weathered of complexion yet still youthful in spite of his years at sea. He was so boisterous and charming in turn that it was only a good deal into conversation that Anthony realized his left sleeve hung empty, though there remained a shoulder to fill the seam. Cdr Barnes caught his wandering eye and Anthony quickly apologized, embarrassed having been caught staring.

“Not at all. ‘Twas cannon fire. The surgeon did not believe I would live, but clearly he did not know the stubbornness of the Barnes bloodline. I would sooner eat my hat than abandon my captain for the mansions of the Lord.”

“I daresay your hat will thank you to keep it upon your head,” Capt Rogers murmured, his expression pinched. Cdr Barnes only laughed and continued on, speaking to Anthony of the prospects of the Nomad, which he clearly loved as though it were his own flesh and blood. Anthony was grateful for the diversion, for it meant he could put his attention whole-heartedly into the conversation of the hour rather than staring at Capt Rogers, so changed that Anthony could hardly believe it was the same person, were it not for the crook in his nose where he broke it as a lad, the flaxen shade of his queue, the piercing blue of his eyes. When the bell was rung for dinner, Anthony was grateful to find himself placed squarely in the midst of the Danvers, between Capt Danvers and her brother Master Steven. Capt Rogers was across the table and two places down, far enough that Anthony had no fear of much direct conversation, though he could not help but overhear what the Captain discussed with Lady Margaret, Lady Sharon, and Gregory. They spoke primarily of the ball the Duchess was holding, its date as yet undecided, and the planned trip afterward to Somerset to visit Cdr Barnes’ family, his mother, father, and three sisters eager to see him again. With his eavesdropping, Anthony feared he made a poor conversation partner for the Danvers family, though Capt Danvers, acutely aware of his plight, endeavoured to fill the spaces he left empty.

By the end of the evening, Anthony could feel only a sense of mortification, for though he’d laboured to treat Capt Rogers with civility and pay him no marked attentions, he was afraid his staring and other poor manners had been noted by all and that he had thrust feelings no longer proper nor welcomed onto the poor Captain’s shoulders. He retired early to his room, where he lay awake long into the night, a book open in front of him but its pages unread. He burned away four hours of candle before he finally surrendered himself to the Dream King, and there too, he was aware of the stares of his peers as they observed his acute feelings, on display for the whole of Kent.

Lt Col Rhodes called promptly early that next day and invited Anthony for a walk to the village. Gregory and Mr Stark, both late risers, naturally refused a similar offer, and thus Anthony and the Lieutenant Colonel were afforded privacy and the leisure to speak of matters which might otherwise have waited.

“Tell me all. You look ill-rested, Tony, and pallid besides. Was it truly so awful?”

Anthony smiled and kicked at a rock, though he knew it a childish action. “No, it was not so awful. It is only in my mind that I make it so, I know. We met with perfect indifference, and barely passed a word the entire evening. I must hope that now I’ve made myself ridiculous, I’ve wrung the feelings from my heart and can hereafter meet him with only neighbourly courtesy.”

“You mean to say he did not engage you?”

“He did not, Jim. And I’m glad for it. I may have made a fool of myself, but I daresay his aplomb did a credit to his character, and the Danvers seem fond of him, though they too find him a dour fellow.”

“Steven Rogers, dour? I can hardly imagine.” Lt Col Rhodes interactions with the young Capt Rogers had not been so frequent as Anthony’s, discouraged as they were by distance and propriety, and since his return to Kent, they had interacted little, due to Jim’s distractions with army business. Even so, he had known the man a little as a young lad and seen enough to know that while Steven Rogers was not so fond of laughing as Anthony, he had his own sort of queer humour, which when well understood by his peers was sharp indeed. And though he was quiet, he was never what Lt Col Rhodes might have described as stern or grim.

“Nor could I,” Anthony murmured, “but he smiled not once the whole evening. Quite a sight it was, as though he’d been sucking a crab-apple.”

“Well then, that is fine news. It’s all the better then that you can now be merely acquaintances for it sounds as though he is not the sort of partner you’d like to have. Let us find you a better match. Someone who is as quick to smile as yourself.”

Anthony could not help but laugh, and he joined arms with Lt Col Rhodes, picking up their pace into nearly a merry skip. For a moment he felt seventeen again, full of hope for the future, but those hopes were soon dashed when they reached the village, where their peers and acquaintances were abuzz with new tidings—there was a party visiting, primarily men and women of business and enterprise. They were apparently distantly connected to the elder Mr Stark through correspondence and venture, but among their number were a few young gentlemen and women of merit who might better be placed in the circles to which Anthony was a part. His father and brother had said not a word, and Anthony was immediately seized with worry, for the manor was not prepared for entertaining. Had Cook even ordered a sufficient meal? If they visited tonight, would there be enough wine or bread? In a panic, Anthony began visiting the butchers and grocers to ensure his household had stocked itself sufficiently, and he was distantly aware of Lt Col Rhodes fuming behind him on his behalf. As they travelled between shops, they heard a great deal of speculation on why the party might be choosing this of all moments to visit Kingston, and naturally the most popular reason resided in the presence of Capt Rogers, whose reputation, thanks to the papers, was well known throughout the whole of England and who, it could only naturally be assumed, was seeking land, capital investments, and love. Business was a secondary concern to matters of the heart, the village had generally agreed. Anthony might have been content had the talk surrounding him not concerned that which he endeavoured to put from his mind, but everywhere they visited the name “Capt Rogers” was on the wind, followed shortly by his family’s own name and business affairs. In the end, Lt Col Rhodes’ errand of cheering his friend was quite blighted by the persistence of rumour and the sudden and unexpected stress which Anthony found himself subjected to.

The trip to the village might have been a complete failure had it not been for lunch at the inn, the very same inn where the party of newcomers had taken rooms. Partway through their meal, they were interrupted by a few of the strangers, who stopped to introduce themselves and offer greetings such as were due to the second son of a business associate and a well-to-do military officer. Among those who took the time to bow and curtsey to them were Ms Sunset Bain, the daughter of a northern industrialist who had some correspondence with the elder Mr Stark, Lord Ezekiel Stane, son of the elder Mr Stark’s most important business partner, and their companion Mr Tiberius Stone, a gentleman from Lancashire. While the former two made it clear that their greetings were only perfunctory, the latter smiled charmingly and seemed genuinely interested in forming an acquaintance with those who lived around Kingston, and Anthony could not help but return the congeniality, though he was yet hesitant, knowing as he did how likely it was that Gregory would force Anthony into Mr Stone’s company at the first hint of general amiability.

When they had quit the village, Lt Col Rhodes was quick to point his friend to what he hoped were appealing aspects of their new acquaintances. Where Gregory’s meddling was purely for familial gain, Anthony could sense the genuine kindness and desire to help which Jim imparted in his words. “You see. Already there are others in our circle who treat you not with indifference and crab-apples but with smiles and a charming word. Perhaps one among their company might prove a fine companion.”

“Jim, I believe you are becoming quite as determined as Father and Gregory at attaching me to another family. Are you so desperate to be rid of me?” Anthony teased, though in his heart he feared precisely that.

“Desperate only to see you happy,” Rhodes replied, and the sincerity of his manner was such that Anthony found himself moved and immediately regretted the doubts he’d been harbouring.

Rhodes was four years his senior, and like Capt Rogers, he too had likely begun to think of life after the military. Anthony knew of Jim’s particular fondness for Capt Danvers and her returned favour for him, unconventional though their relationship was. Deep in his cups, Jim had confessed his desires to unite with her and start a family, for all that primi were not to marry, and Anthony had speculated with him how such an end might be achieved. Jim was due to inherit, as was Capt Danvers, and perhaps in simply being neighbours they might be able to sustain their relationship with relatively little gossip, though children would present a problem. If Capt Danvers married a Miss, however, they could appeal to Lt Col Rhodes for “marital donations” and as such, all parties might be contented. Should such a situation arise, however, Anthony knew he would become a burden to them, as he was now to his father and Gregory. Friends were lovely when one was single, but when one was raising children, friends were just as likely to interfere with more pressing familial duties.

 “I am happy, Jim.” Anthony continued. “As happy as I might be given the circumstances. In any case, even if I should turn out a spinster, there are worse fates than living out my days looking after my wayward brother.”

“Tony,” Jim implored, putting his arm ‘round Anthony’s shoulders, “you are young and handsome and accomplished and would that I favoured men I would marry you myself. I do not believe fate intends you for spinsterhood.”

By the time they returned to the manor, Lt Col Rhodes had managed to lift Anthony’s spirits, which was good indeed as the moment he was through the door, Mr Stark announced, as Anthony had discovered in town, that he was expecting company. His business associates to dine, as well as Capt Rogers, Cdr Barnes, Lady Margaret and Lady Sharon, and so cook was to prepare a grand meal as ordered by Anthony—he was instantly grateful that he had impulsively checked at the grocer’s and ordered more, for the party was even larger than he had expected. From Gregory came the command to wear something bright and flattering, and it was then that Anthony knew that those he’d suspected were indeed suitors in the party. That would explain the young gentlemen and women who had introduced themselves to Anthony, not merely as a matter of business principle, but also as a first step of courtship.

Anthony hurried to his room to dress, grimacing at the prospect of a waist corset, which he normally forwent when dining with families already in his acquaintance. He was slim of waist naturally, and amongst his friends there was no reason to put on airs, though Father and Gregory, in accordance with their vanity, frequently dressed in finery more fitting for court than for countryside society. However, Gregory had ordered Anthony also present his best, and so he had his red and gold eveningwear set out and prepared. While he performed his toilette, he contemplated the prospect of partnership with one of the newcomers. Though he knew it to be childish and naïve, he could not help but hope for a partner who might measure up to what Capt Rogers had once been in intelligence, humour, sensibility, and amiability, a partner who might fill that space within Anthony that still felt bereft all these years later. He, unlike Lt Col Rhodes, had no preference of sex, and he wondered if perhaps a woman mightn’t do where men had failed him. It might be that a woman was different enough in mien that Anthony would not immediately draw comparisons between her and her male counterpart. Sighing, he watched as his attendant tied his cravat, eyeing the way the golden silk complemented his eyes. He sometimes wished he could be allowed the more sombre dress that his father and Gregory enjoyed, if only to be taken as more than simply the bearer of a handsome dowry and the provider of novel entertainment, but the garb of secundi had its own advantages, and in his gold silk, lace, and crimson waistcoat, he felt armoured like the knights of old. After all, were not Arthur Pendragon’s family colours said to be gold and crimson?

Over his waistcoat went a matching tailcoat, fluffed by a small bustle, and at last, Anthony was ready. “You will be well, sir,” the maid murmured, smoothing a grooming brush over the wool. “I can’t imagine any of these fine ladies and gentlemen turning their eyes from such a charming figure.”

“No,” murmured Anthony, “though I do wish it was my heart and not my jewellery that caught their eyes first.”

Anthony descended to the drawing room, where his father and Gregory were already waiting. “There you are. Hurry up. Some of our guests have already arrived. You are such a sloth, Tony. Let me take a look at you.” Gregory inspected Anthony’s dress from all sides, fussing at an imagined wrinkle here, a dusting of lint there. “You are not wearing your watch,” he said at last, standing directly in front of Anthony. “Where is your watch?”

Blushing fiercely, Anthony was forced to look away as he answered. “It is in my study, where I’ve been examining the mechanisms. It is not fit to be worn at the moment.”

Gregory scoffed and turned to his father, “Truly these are troubling times. The offices of the primi now become ever more liberal in who might enjoy them. I’ve heard that young Master Danvers is considering a military career, and him a third-born! He’s of a marriageable age. It’s a wonder he doesn’t seek out a match and settle himself down to tend estate, as would best fit his station.”

“As bad as Tony here, he is, though I imagine he at least has the good sense not to break open a precious gold pocket watch. I do not know why, Tony, you can’t be satisfied with a quick and steady marriage. We have provided you with numerous suitable partners and you’ve snubbed them all, like a terrible snob. And you’re not even that handsome. Tell me this, Tony. What first-born will want a partner who plays at warships or destroys all the clocks rather than tends to the estate and the household? Bad enough that you’re sickly and plain, but that you should be so blasted wilful. Now do as you’re told for once, and entertain our guests.”

Anthony stood in abject humiliation as they belittled his interests and proceeded to name other progeny who were failing in the duties that befell them through the fate of fortune and birth. From the corner of his eye, he could see that the guests already arrived in the drawing room were listening at the door, though they were pretending not to, and he was mortified that the whole of their acquaintance should hear such slanderous talk from his family. He longed to escape to the drawing room and do as he was bid, if only to flee the callousness and crudity with which his father and brother spoke, but he could not while they still demanded him. When he was away from the household, their talk always made him feel sure that the true source of family embarrassment was their lack of decorum and sordid business practices, but under the eyes of the elder Starks, within his own household, he began to doubt himself and his own surety—perhaps they were correct and he was the one in the wrong, not they.

Thankfully, not five minutes later the bell rang and the butler showed their guests of honour into the drawing room, providing Anthony with a quick escape in order to greet them. It was the group of Mr Stark’s business associates and their additional guests from the inn, as well as a few more secundi guests, and for the next several minutes, Anthony was caught up as Gregory whisked him through the room, making introductions and ignoring their more usual society entirely. Lord Ezekiel, Ms Bain, and Mr Stone were all present, as were Lord Ezekiel’s father Lord Obadiah Stane, Mr Ivan Vanko and his son Anton, and the Honourable Whitney Frost. The young secundi of the party were a Miss Rachel Leighton, a Master Arnold Roth, and a Miss Gail Richards, but Gregory hardly paid them mind before moving on. The moment introductions were finished, Anthony found himself steered into conversation with Lord Ezekiel and Lady Whitney while Gregory departed to discuss trade routes with the elder businessmen and Ms Bain. These, then, Anthony surmised, were all primi in search of a proper match with a fine dowry, and though he did not imagine he would like anyone whom his brother considered fine company, he made every effort to be cordial and charming in their presence. Lord Ezekiel seemed amiable and intelligent, commenting on philosophical treatises that Anthony himself had only recently read, and making for a lively conversation until the topic turned to parliament. Lord Ezekiel sniffed when Anthony attempted to give his opinion and pointedly turned away to join a different circle. Anthony knew his knowledge of parliament was perhaps not the most comprehensive, but though he himself had no say in the politics there, he read the papers and was informed and did not see any cause why he should not comment on the goings on of Crown and country. Undeterred, he turned his attentions to Lady Whitney Frost instead.

“How are you finding Kent, Lady Whitney?”

“I find it quite diverting. My father’s holdings are in Yorkshire and I find the warmth of these southern climes to be most agreeable. Tell me, Master Stark, have you ever visited Yorkshire?”

“I’m afraid I travel very little, though my father and brother are quite often to town. I’ve never had the pleasure of visiting Yorkshire. I should like to travel more. I have been to Sussex where my acquaintance Lady Janet Van Dyne resides, and town of course, but I can’t boast much more than that.”

“Oh, the Lady Janet. I have heard tell of her, though I’ve never had the pleasure. I understand that she is quite the talent with painting and needlework, so much so that we hear rumours of her accomplishment even in our dreary seaside holdings.”

Pleased to have a safer topic on which to converse, Anthony engaged Lady Whitney for the next half hour in avid repartee, at the end of which, the dinner bell was rung. He had been so caught up in the pleasure of speaking with Lady Whitney he had not taken note of the rest of the party, and he was grateful for the distraction, as Capt Rogers and Lady Sharon appeared to be unawares of the rest of the room, so deep were they in conversation. The eligible secundi who had come with the larger business party all looked terribly put out. Though Capt Rogers was not smiling, Anthony dared to think that this was the closest he had seen of any hint of humour in Steven’s countenance, and the knowledge gave him equal pangs of joy and misery—joy that Steven might find happiness again and look less careworn than he currently did and misery that that happiness would be found with another. Diverting as Lady Whitney had been, it would seem one evening’s conversation was not enough to completely heal him of his foolish old infatuation.

For the meal, he was seated next to Mr Stone, who proved even more engaging than Lady Whitney. His quick wit and charming smile more than once sent Anthony into most unseemly laughter, and he was forced to hide his mirth behind a napkin, even as Mr Stark and Gregory both glared at him from down the table. Anthony, however, could not bring himself to be mortified, for it had been many a year, it seemed, since he last laughed so freely and so joyously in Stark Manor. At the same time, however, there was something in the way Mr Stone smiled which gave him pause, and he wondered if the man didn’t actively seek to cause trouble for Anthony. He dismissed the thought almost as soon as he had it, but was thereafter a good deal quieter.

Following the dinner, Anthony was surprised to find himself in the company of Cdr Barnes, who seemed a fine sort of fellow, if a hair less witty than Mr Stone. At the prior dinner at Her Ladyship’s estate, Anthony had actively avoided speaking with the Commander, fearful of what the man might have heard about him through Capt Rogers, but in this setting at least, Cdr Barnes was friendly, curious, and engaging.

“I find it a strange thing, Master Stark, that one such as yourself should not already be attached.”

Anthony demurred behind a fan, watching the table where a game of cards was being set and wondering if he mightn’t also join in to avoid any uncomfortable conversation.

“I’m afraid in our humble countryside, the opportunities for engagement are limited by the scope of our society—I should wonder that you, Commander, are equally free of a partner.”

“If you find society small here, Master Stark, I might ask you to experience the society aboard a ship of fifty, where though all the men and women are good enough as humanity goes, any sort of affection is a detriment to our duties, and as such we must all be as cold as fish.”

“Is that what has happened to Capt Rogers? Is he in truth a fish in disguise? I do not know when you met him, Cdr Barnes, but he is much changed from when he was younger.” The moment the words slipped from his mouth, Anthony wished he might snatch them back. It was the height of uncouth, and he grimaced and ducked further behind his fan—he regretted the liberality with which the wine had been poured and his own misjudgement in partaking so often.

“Oh, you must not hold Capt Rogers’ manners against him, Master Stark. He has been the gloomy man you see before you ever since I lost my arm. I believe he claims full responsibility, and I must often remind him that he did not light the fuse of the canon that did it. It may not seem so to you, but his mood has lightened since we first came to Kent, though I know that at first the notion of returning here pained him, what with the fact that his dear mother is now passed. I believe familiar society has eased his worries.” Cdr Barnes’ eyes trailed to where Capt Rogers and Lady Sharon were again deep in conversation, and Anthony could see what the Commander also seemed to see—the two were a fine match, golden of hair, tall and strong of frame. Anthony could not mistake the Commander’s meaning.

Unsure what more he could say when he had already blundered so horribly, he excused himself to the card table where he found himself partnered with Mr Stone over whist. For the remainder of the evening, he allowed Mr Stone’s able conversation to divert him, such that he did not think again on the Captain until he was tucked safely in his bed—only then did he wonder how life on the high seas might have changed Capt Rogers, and whether that change was for better or worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://arukou-arukou.tumblr.com/) for more fanficiton and nerdery.


	4. Ch 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lady Margaret hosts a ball and Mr Stone extends an invitation.

Following the dinner party at the Starks, the whole of local society was thrown into a buzz of excitement in anticipation of the ball at the Duchess’ estate in late January after the holidays had ended and society had returned from wherever they might have spent their Christmases. Anthony found his fervour could not equal that of those around him, but he took solace in the constant companionship of Mr Stone, who called several times over the course of the next two weeks, accompanying Anthony on his walks to the village or on turns about the countryside. Though he had initially feared that Mr Stone might be ill-intentioned, in the light of day without other society to distract them, he provided diverting company and was generally willing to humour Anthony where other potential suitors had not been. Tiberius Stone’s family hailed from Lancashire, he told Anthony, where they were a well-to-do port authority connected with shipping and trade. Mr Stone himself knew nothing of sailing and instead had been charged with negotiating contracts. However, he found aspects of his family’s business practices unsavoury and had broken with them to become a manager for another trade company, one who worked solely with those spices, silks, and other fineries of the East rather than the exotic goods and demands of the New World.

Anthony could not help but approve of this more humane view on the Empire’s businesses abroad, and he was enchanted by Mr Stone’s way of telling yarns, spinning long exuberant tales of strange animals and bizarre fruits brought to him by his captains and sailors. “Truly,” he told Anthony, “I’ve never seen a creature like it. A bird as tall as a man, ugly as the Devil himself, with great pink legs and black and white plumage like—well, perhaps that comparison is too crude for delicate company. My apologies.”

The finest quality of Mr Stone was, however, as far as Anthony was concerned, his willingness to discuss ship-building. Though he was not a sailor, he was aware of innovations in the field of seafaring and readily spoke to Anthony of sail cuts, water displacement, canon cradles, all manner of those subjects which Anthony could not indulge in his household and could only very rarely find a willing partner to engage with. Mr Stone’s indulgence fanned his excitement and kindled his mind, such that he spent many an afternoon at his desk sketching out what Mr Stone had described and wondering at the joining of wood or the sealing of pitch until it was nearly time for dinner.

For all his excitement, though, Anthony could not bring himself to feel any more than a general sense of friendship toward Mr Stone, nothing akin to what he had once experienced so long ago. Now constantly in Capt Rogers’ society, Anthony was acutely aware of those qualities which had first attracted him to him, and though the Captain was much changed, Anthony was convinced that much also remained, hidden beneath a dour expression and now shared only with Lady Sharon and very occasionally with Cdr Barnes. Anthony did his best to seat himself far from Capt Rogers at meals, and endeavoured to avoid those circles in which he was conversing with others, but distance seemed to make no difference. Tony’s heart ached as it always had, perhaps more now that that which it yearned for was in sight again. He could only be glad that following the Duchess’ ball, Capt Rogers would away again and Anthony, though he would forever miss the man, might at last be able to move on.

 

* * *

 

The night of the ball found the Duchess’ estate filled with the kind of splendour Anthony suspected could only equalled by the King himself. The halls were filled with the earliest spring flowers, those which fought through frost and snow to make their gentle colour known, and their scent was heady in the chill night air and the warmer rooms of the manor—Anthony could not help but admire the way they brought brightness and cheer to the otherwise stately manor, and he smiled to see snowdrops, crocuses, and Oriental plum blossoms scattered in the corners of rooms. In a pale pink coat and light blue waistcoat, he felt almost as though he were one of them, a soft spring flower just in the bloom of life, though he knew that he was now on the wrong side of twenty, and in truth was no such thing. Recently his father had been commenting on his age, how it had cast his mien toward the unfortunate. “At least when you were young, you were passingly attractive. Now you’ve spent too much time outdoors, and you’ve weathered in a most unseemly way, simultaneously sickly pale and yet already wrinkled at the eyes and mouth. It will be a wonder if anyone should ever want you now.”

For the ball, however, Anthony had pinched at his cheeks, arranged the curls of his hair, and trimmed his whiskers—here he hoped, among his friends, he would still look as he once had all those years ago. He entered on the arm of Lt Col Rhodes, and for a time traversed the crowd of chatting laughing revellers with him. They shared two dances before Capt Danvers requested Jim’s company and Anthony found a number of the group he’d recently been forced into society with to hold forth on all manner of subjects, both grandiose and plain, thought-provoking and occasionally daft. It was well enough as conversation went, but in general he found the topic of London society to be beyond him, and moreover, the remarks made in that arena were often of the meaner variety.

Luckily, Lady Whitney requested a dance of him and he obliged, pleased with her lightness of foot and her amiable smile. When the song concluded, they retreated to a corner of the room to observe the other couples. “A lovely gathering Lady Margaret has arranged for us, I think,” Lady Whitney said, toasting the general grandeur with a glass of punch.

“My Lady rarely has occasion to hold balls anymore. I suspect she’s making use of the presence of her niece and other young society while she has it.”

“Yes, Lady Sharon. She and I attended the same school in London, you know. She’s a lovely woman, though a bit too fond of out of doors for my taste. I’ve never been one for hunting or sport. And you, Master Stark? Are you one of those lads who was forever traipsing about the countryside.”

“I can’t say I’ve ever been such a lad, Lady Whitney. I was sickly as a child, and my heart still troubles me from time to time. As a result, I’m afraid I’ve spent far too much time with books and inkwells, and not nearly enough time under the sun.” His father's comments were on his mind, and he wondered if what he said seemed a lie to others, given his apparently weathered mien.

“A pity that,” Mr Stone said, approaching them with a grin and several fresh glasses of punch. “I believe the sun would have reason to rejoice if such a fine secundi were to spend time under its light.”

“You flatter me, Mr Stone,” Anthony said, and truly he was flattered, especially given circumstances. Though he’d had his range of fine young visitors over the years since Capt Rogers' departure, none had been quite so bold in the statement of their affections. Perhaps the closest had been Ms Virginia Potts, who had doted on him, though ever the sense to him was that she felt him more a younger brother than a potential life partner. When she had advanced a proposal, Anthony had spoken with her frankly. He had told her he believed her affections were of a familial rather than romantic persuasion and asked her if he were wrong. Ms Potts confessed that his conjectures were correct, but that she nonetheless enjoyed Anthony’s companionship and believed that in time they might be comfortable together. At that, Anthony was forced to divulge more of himself, to tell her that were it not for the fact that his heart knew true affection, he would be all too happy to abide by Ms Potts companionship, but as it was, he could not imagine true happiness with her, for all that she was a wonderful woman and friend, and he wished her all the best in her search. They still corresponded regularly, though Ms Potts' residence in Cornwall meant that they had not seen each other in person for more than five years. She had lately married a Master Harold Hogan, and Anthony wished them all the best in their union—he was given to understand that Mg Potts was a jolly man, prone to laughter, though his nerves were also said to be a bit high strung. All the same, Ms Potts wrote of him with affectionate fondness, and for Anthony, that was proof enough that his refusal of her proposal had been in the right.

On the dance floor, Capt Rogers and Lady Sharon took a turn together, and Anthony was forced to listen as the onlookers admired them. “A dashing fellow, he is,” murmured Mr Stone, leaning into Anthony’s ear. “I’m told you knew each other as lads.”

Anthony flushed and wondered what else Mr Stone had been told, but he answered nonetheless, surreptitiously placing a more proper distance between them. “We did. As a boy, Capt Rogers was also often sickly, and so Duchess Margaret thought he might make a fine companion for me while we nursed our ills together.”

“Sounds a dismal prospect, the both of you abed with stuffy noses and fevers.”

“I suppose it was,” Anthony murmured, though he could not feel any sort of gloom in looking back on those halcyon days before all that he’d hoped for had been dashed to ruin—ruin at his own hand, no less.

“Master Stark,” called someone from the parlour. Anthony excused himself to the adjacent room and found Lt Col Rhodes waiting there with his sister, the Danvers family, and good number of other local families. “Master Stark,” Miss Rhodes breathed excitedly, taking up Anthony’s arm and pulling him to the piano forte, “my brother tells me you’ve learned the new reel just out from Mr Diblin. I’ve heard it’s divine, and we all would very much like to hear it. Won’t you play it for us?”

Anthony conceded with good grace and seated himself at the bench, looking down at the keys and drawing out the moment. Miss Rhodes looked almost beside herself and he wanted very much to entertain her as best he knew how. With a flourish he began, playing as the onlookers clapped in time or commented on the merits and demerits of Mr Diblin’s composition. He became so caught up in his performance that it was only once he lifted his head after the coda that he found his audience had expanded to include Mr Stone, Capt Rogers, Lady Sharon, and a dozen more people. The parlour was so packed that it seemed hardly a soul could move about.

The audience about him burst into polite applause and began discussing a second request. While he waited for a suggestion, Anthony could not help but notice that Capt Rogers’ eyes were upon him, though his face remained as hard as granite. Anthony could not imagine what had brought about such an implacable expression, and the longer he was aware of the Captain’s consideration, the greater his nerves clamoured. He did not care for such scrutiny, such hard-heartedness, from one who had once looked on him so kindly. Anxiously, he turned to the Danvers and took the first song they suggested, playing it, though he missed three notes in succession right at the opening. Once he had the knack of it, though, he was able to finish with relative grace, and afterward excused himself, claiming that he wished to give someone else a turn and that the stuffiness of the room was a bit more than he could bear, though in truth he could not be sure if it was the room or his mortification which he found oppressive.

Lady Sharon was good enough to shew him to an upstairs room where he was at leisure to catch his breath for a moment, and there he composed himself. Truly, he was glad that he would be subjected to this pain only a bit longer. Capt Rogers’ party would depart in a few days’ time, and once they were gone, Anthony could return to the life he’d known before this agony, half-life though it had been.

As Tony sat on the couch, fanning his face, he became aware that there was a conversation just outside the door. It took him a moment to place Cdr Barnes’ voice, and thereafter both Capt Rogers and Capt Danvers.

“I’m not at all sure it’s wise, Steve,” Barnes said. The normal good humour of his tone had been set aside and he now sounded most grave. “Truly, you’ve been in agony whilst we were here. This will only prolong your suffering.”

“On the contrary,” Capt Danvers said, interceding before Capt Rogers could speak. “I’m quite sure that what’s best for Steven at this point is to face all with stalwartness and fortitude. To turn away now would only be to concede defeat at the hands of his own feelings. Steven, you are only human. Can you not endure it?”

“Carol, my return to Kent has been only darkness where I had anticipated light. I had believed— But it does not matter what I believed. I want only for us to be away quickly to Somerset, and that fellow has requested our companionship on the journey. I do not know how, in good conscience, we can refuse him. And so I can endure it.”

“Steve,” Barnes spoke again, sounded even more heated. “You know what he has proposed.”

“Yes, Commander, I’m aware, and I’ll thank you to let the matter rest.”

Anthony’s heart pounded in his chest, and he felt both the hot pangs of shame and the chill dread that his fears were confirmed—Capt Rogers no longer cared for his homeland or those who dwelled within, and Anthony suspected that he himself was foremost among those. Never had he heard Capt Rogers speak with such cold-forged rage, and he shuddered even to imagine what his countenance must have been in that moment when he addressed his friend not with familiarity but with military precision. Rather than the release he had anticipated, however, Anthony’s heartbreak was only greater. He could not help but feel that he had been the cause of this transformation, that his callousness and rejection had been the fulcrum on which Capt Rogers’ character had turned. Then in the next moment he chastised himself, for such thoughts were shamefully egotistical. Their lives had diverged, and if Steven, if Capt Rogers had changed, so too had Anthony—time changed all things, save what lay within his heart, it seemed. Overcome, he lay back against the chaise and pressed his hand to his brow, willing calm upon himself.

Blessedly, the party passed the door and presumably descended the stairs again, and after some ten minutes, Anthony felt he was collected enough to return to the ball. For the remainder of the night, he was again poor company, distracted by flashes of Capt Rogers’ flaxen queue from the corner of his eye or of Lady Sharon’s fair gloved hand upon the Captain’s shoulder or elbow. Around him, the rumours seemed only to buzz louder and louder until they were a haze about him, oppressive and hot. He was grateful when his father called for the carriage and collected his sons, and the whole of the ride back to Stark Manor, Anthony was insensate to the shameful gossip which Mr Stark and Gregory immediately took up. In the safety of his chambers, he took an uncustomary nightcap, willing that the drink might ease some of his nerves, and though he felt still stirred by the events of the ball, exhaustion he had not anticipated overtook him and he slept dreamlessly and long into the next morning.

 

* * *

 

Anthony believed that the ball would be the last he looked on Capt Rogers, perhaps forever, and Lt Col Rhodes, who called around noon, made clear his feelings on the matter.

“I’ll be glad to see him gone. He’s a fine enough military fellow, but the agony he has brought you, Tony, is not something I would see you endure any longer. You’ve been paler in his presence, gaunt and sallow of cheek. I hate to see you suffer so.”

“But Jim, don’t you understand? It was I who was the cause of his suffering. All that he has become, I may have played some part in it.”

“Tony, it’s been seven years. If his unhappiness still endures, I cannot believe that the fault is yours. You must move on and let this attachment rest. You spent a good deal of the evening with Mr Stone. Did you not find him agreeable?”

Anthony sighed and looked out the window. Late winter rain had descended on land, chilling the earth and dead grasses, turning the bare-boned trees which dotted the landscape and made neat rows in the distant orchard a dreary mourning black. The windows fogged with condensation, and he felt that the climate had come in answer to his own bleak mood. “He is well enough, Jim. Handsome, surely, and charming. But he pushes his affections so openly, and I find his forward manner distasteful.”

“Perhaps it is simply a difference in custom. He is of Lancashire, after all. Colder climes cannot abide by our fussy rules all the time.” Both Anthony and Lt Col Rhodes knew that his defence of Mr Stone was half-hearted at best, but the latter remained determined to lighten Anthony’s spirits. He turned the subject to Capt Danvers new charge, a fine ship of fifty guns which was now being built in harbour. At this, Anthony found a little of his old spirit, and for some time they discussed that which always ultimately fascinated him—the balance between power and speed, how best to craft a ship which could both outpace and outgun her enemies. After an hour of pleasantly distracting discussion, there was another caller at the door.

Mr Stone was shewn into the parlour, and Anthony stood to greet him. “To what do we owe the pleasure, Sir?”

“I wished, first, to thank you for your capital company yesterday evening. A ball is always an enjoyable prospect, but I found my experience enhanced in the grace of your presence.” Anthony flushed, and he was acutely aware of Mr Stone’s untoward proximity. Quickly, he turned and resumed his position on the settee next to Lt Cl Rhodes. Without room to spare, Mr Stone pulled up one of the chairs and sat across from them. For a time, they discussed the grandeur of the ball, and the aplomb with which the Duchess had entertained her guests. At last, however, Mr Stone drew himself up.

“I confess I’ve called not only to discuss the previous evening with you. Master Stark, I’d like to extend an invitation. My party is off back to Lancashire on the morrow to see to our respective businesses, but myself and Lady Whitney plan to detour rather than return straight home. We had been hoping to take in a bit more of Kent and the various country southerlands before we make our way back to our homes. I had hoped you might join us. The spring seas of the West are quite breath-taking, and the air of the region can be magnificent for those with ailments like your own. Your father has already given his consent, and now I can only hope that you will agree as well. Lieutenant Colonel, you are also most welcome if you should have the time and inclination.”

At a loss for words to such an abrupt, generous, and forward invitation, Anthony turned to Rhodes, who looked eager rather than apprehensive. “This might be just the ticket, Tony. I know your heart’s been troubling you these past weeks—“ the double meaning was not lost on Anthony—“and a journey would be refreshing, don’t you agree? I’d be happy to accompany you as well, should you choose to go.”

With Lt Col Rhodes as his companion and chaperone, Anthony’s primary means of refusal was swept away, and the moment they were alone, Anthony meant to give him whatfor for this unexpected turn. He looked up to Mr Stone, fairer than Capt Rogers, and thinner of build too, though handsome and pink cheeked from the chill, and considered his answer. Perhaps Lt Col Rhodes was right—perhaps what Anthony truly needed was to be away from Kent, where the oppressive weight of his father and brother’s expectations seeped into every aspect of his life and the ghost of his lost love haunted him still, even after all these years. After a moment, he nodded. “Very well. I’ll be happy to join you. I’ve never seen that part of the country and I imagine it will be quite a grand adventure and journey.”

“Splendid. I know it’s a great deal to ask, but do you think you can present yourselves at the Duchess’ estate at ten o’clock on the morrow? We depart from there for the West, and will be traveling by way of Somerset.”

“We shall be on time,” Rhodes answered for Anthony. “But we must begin making arrangements now, if we’re to depart so soon. Perhaps you might excuse us?”

“Of course. I’m so pleased you’ve agreed to come. I shall endeavour to make it a most enjoyable journey for you.” Mr Stone excused himself and left Rhodes and Anthony to begin preparations.

“I suppose it’s quite a long journey,” Anthony murmured, already overwhelmed at the prospect of what he must accomplish in less than twenty-four hours.

“It is, but you’ll enjoy it. You so rarely leave your home, Anthony, and perhaps away from it, you can remember what it is to be free and joyful, not always under the thumb of our local society. Now, I’m off to make arrangements with my mother and father. I’ll see you at the Duchess’ on the morrow.” He departed as well, and Anthony busied himself with his trunk and any other needs he felt the road would require. The preparations for his impromptu journey were so laborious that it was only once he was in bed that night that he remembered that Capt Rogers’ party was departing from the Duchess’ estate tomorrow as well. And that they were bound West for Somerset.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://arukou-arukou.tumblr.com/) for more fanfiction and general nerdery.


	5. Ch 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony's fears are confirmed when he discovers that his party will be traveling westward with Capt Rogers' party. A small accident leads to an excursion in Bath and many new and intriguing acquaintances.

Anthony’s fears had been well-founded, for when he and Rhodes arrived at the Duchess’ estate, he discovered that they would be sharing two coaches with Rogers’ party and traveling in tandem. A long journey on the road in the presence of Capt Rogers was enough to trouble Anthony with nerves, and he could see also that Lt Col Rhodes was equally displeased now that his object of the journey—Anthony’s distraction from all things related to Capt Rogers—was to be thwarted, but as the other party was in a separate carriage, Anthony found himself only in the company of those who would see him smile, though they still perhaps expected more of him than he was capable of giving. Lady Whitney and Mr Stone sat across from Anthony and Lt Col Rhodes and proved cordial and diverting, though their own personalities did not mix well, for Lady Whitney was cool where Mr Stone seemed to run hot. Mr Stone’s marked attentions did not go unnoticed by either Rhodes or Anthony, but his efforts seemed more subdued now that they were in exhausting motion several hours of each day, and what before had seemed almost smothering and certainly inappropriate affections were now muted to pleasant conversation and observation of the countryside. His manner of joking however, still bordered on the offensive, and more than once Lady Whitney censured him for speaking in a manner unbefitting genteel company.

In Reading, their party grew when Ms Maria Hill, the cousin who would be staying with the Duchess and Lady Sharon over the course of the summer, joined them, swelling their number to a full and even eight and infusing fresh life into the evening meals, which had grown dull as they wearied of hard travel. Ms Hill was much like her cousin, though darker of hair and more prone to indelicacy. Anthony found her frankness a bit off-putting, though Lt Col Rhodes appreciated her general aversion to frills and obsequiousness. She and Lady Sharon rode in the coach with Capt Rogers and Cdr Barnes, and so Anthony’s interactions with her were limited—he suspected had they been more in each other’s company, they would have had little to discuss. He was pleased to find that though he had at first feared a journey with the object of his former affections, it would seem that constant exposure had somewhat lessened the ache of those acute feelings which had plagued him over the course of the past several months—though they were by no means extinguished—and he was able to better converse with his companions without mortification or social slight. Capt Rogers’ mien, too, appeared improved by the road, and his manner became altogether more amiable. His marked attentions to Lady Sharon continued unhindered, and Anthony, as ever, wished them happiness—he had never wanted to see Steven harmed in any way and he was pleased to see in their interactions the fruition of true affection, if only for Capt Rogers’ sake.

Approaching Bath, their party ran into its first hindrance on the journey from East to West when a wheel broke from its axel and sent all the passengers in Anthony’s coach tumbling to the ground. In the violent fall, Anthony landed poorly on his ankle and was reduced to a slow limp and much pain. Within minutes, his ankle had swollen to twice its size and he was unable to remove his boot at all. Fearing a broken bone, the party arranged itself and pondered what the best course of action might be. Seated upon a stone, teeth gritted in agony, Anthony watched as the officers discussed possible solutions with Mr Stone and Lady Whitney.

“We cannot continue while Master Anthony is so injured—the road will only aggravate his pain,” Jim said, clearly agitated that his will was being contested at all.

“But if we tarry too long, my travel window will close. I must insist we remain in transit,” Mr Stone argued, growing a good deal less amiable with his temper out of sorts.

“Sir,” Capt Rogers interceded, his imposing frame halting any further argument, “I understand that your business is important to you, but no earthly goods should take precedence over a person’s health. I agree with Lt Col Rhodes. We must pause our journey in Bath, until Master Stark is better, or at the very least has been seen by a surgeon to verify that he is capable of travel.”

Mr Stone seemed ready to continue his grievances, but with a great breath, he collected himself and tidied his person. “Of course. Of course, you are correct. Forgive me. I am never easy, leaving my affairs in the hands of another, even a trusted associate, but Anthony’s health is indeed more precious than shipments of spices and silks. Forgive my indiscretion.”

He left the party of his peers and instead doted on Anthony while Capt Rogers and Lt Col Rhodes continued to debate how best to reach Bath with only one carriage, a carriage which could carry, at most, four. At last they approached Anthony to deliver the verdict.

“Bath is some miles yet, but no more than fifteen and the driver believes fewer than that. Master Stark, if you would be so good to ride in the carriage,” Capt Rogers said, “Lt Col Rhodes, Lady Sharon, and myself will accompany you to the city and make arrangements for our lodgings and to call for a surgeon. The others will remain here with our second carriage until the driver and footman finish repairs. Is this agreeable to you?”

Anthony, who though he was in immense pain still did not care to be fussed over—he had never enjoyed it even as a sickly child—waved his hand at them. “I do wish you all wouldn’t trouble yourselves. I’m sure it’s not terribly serious, and I expect I shall be walking again in no time at all.”

“All the same,” Jim implored, taking Anthony’s hand, “for the sake of my nerves, will you concede? We cannot even see it, what with the boot stuck. The surgeon may have to cut it away. Be sensible, Tony.”

“Very well,” Anthony huffed and he prepared himself to stand. No such trouble need have been taken, though, for Capt Rogers leaned over him and took him up in his arms, carrying him up into the coach. Anthony barely knew what to say, though he knew that no other person in the party was likely strong enough to accomplish such a feat. Afraid that any word at all would give him away, he only muttered a “thank you, Captain,” and then turned away to look out the window. The remainder of the journey to Bath was spent in uneasy silence, and beside him, Anthony sensed Jim’s concern.

At the inn, the surgeon was sent for immediately, and he did indeed have to cut away the boot, but luckily, he reported that the bone was not broken. All the same, he had stern orders regarding travel. “Master Stark is in need of rest, and I think it wise that you have postponed your journey. I expect in a week’s time, he should be ready to soldier onward. I must say, you could not have chosen a finer place to turn an ankle, for the waters of the baths will do the ache some good.” When the surgeon finished his work, the others left the room, saving for Lt Col Rhodes who perched upon the bed at Anthony’s side.

“It is almost like being a child again,” Anthony joked, trying for jocularity. Jim’s expression remained solemn, however. “Oh Jim, please understand. No matter what you think of me, you know that I’ve sense enough not to be moved by one feat of strength. The Captain did only what he felt was necessary and nothing more.”

“It’s not that that worries me, Tony, but I don’t wish to speak of it just now. You’re tired from the road and injured as well and I want only for you to rest and relax as per my intent behind this entire trip to begin with.” By the candle and firelight, he looked travel-weary and Anthony’s heart was pained that he had caused such distress to his friend. But after a moment he stood and took Anthony’s hand fondly. “I’ll have the maid bring up your supper. Rest well and ring for a maid if you need anything. For heaven’s sake, for my sanity, dear Tony, please do not take to your feet again tonight.” Anthony acquiesced and was left alone. Though he had assured Jim that he was unmoved by Capt Rogers' charity, in truth, it lingered in his mind like an unscratchable itch. When he closed his eyes, he could almost again feel the surety of Steven, of Capt Rogers' arms, wrapped tightly and warmly in the same way a primi might bear a secundi over the marital threshold. Anthony had never been one for the sorts of salacious novels Lady Janet favoured, but with an experience such as this, he suspected he now better understood their appeal, for in truth, a moment's caress was having far greater power over him that had their embraces of old. Distressed, he took up a book to turn his mind away from it all, and blessedly, shortly after the maid arrived with a tray. He took his supper and, exhausted from the ordeal, was asleep shortly thereafter.

When he woke in the morning, the maid informed him that Mr Stone and the others had arrived at the inn late the previous evening. He took breakfast in bed, and after he was finished, the remaining party all filed in to visit him. The poor maid was sent scurrying about to locate seating enough for everyone, and again Anthony felt a pang of guilt for causing such unnecessary trouble. Capt Rogers was of course, among them, and all that Anthony had tried to avoid thinking of the previous evening rushed upon him again—he was very grateful for the distraction the rest of the party proceeded to provide. They’d only barely begun to converse when a letter arrived for Mr Stone. He read the envelope, frowned, and excused himself, but returned only five minutes later.

 “I’m so sorry,” he told them, the letter clutched in one hand, a great coat crumpled in the other. “I’ve had urgent news from Lancashire, and I must attend to it immediately. Would that I could remain with you, I would, but this matter is most pressing. I hope you can forgive my rudeness. It was I who first invited you, Master Stark, and now I must abandon you.”

“Not at all. You say the matter is of utmost importance, and so of course you must go. I know your business is important to you.”

Mr Stone turned to Anthony with a pained smile before reaching for his hat. “Yes, but as I said yesterday, business is not as important as the company of a dear friend. I hope that I may rejoin you in Somerset. God willing, this trifle may be dealt with quickly and I may return to you all with haste. Though I wish that you’d not been injured, I’m pleased to know that you will stay for a time in Bath. The waters will do good not only for your ankle but for your ill humours, as well, Master Stark, and I know that the society here is most pleasing. I promise I shall write.”

He bowed to the party and then disappeared out the door with only the most perfunctory of farewells.

“Good heavens,” Lady Sharon said, fanning herself lightly. “He did not even take his midday meal. I hope all is well.”

“As well as can be, I imagine,” Capt Rogers said and then he turned to the party. “But he spoke truly of Bath. Perhaps we can all enjoy the society of the area until such time as Master Stark is well again, especially after the trouble with the carriage. What say you all?”

Before anyone could reply, another letter arrived. “Gracious, I had not expected such business on a pleasure trip,” Ms Hill remarked tartly, staring down at the letter upon the tray.

“For Master Stark,” the maid said. Anthony glanced at the hand and the name.

“This is from Lady Janet Van Dyne,” he told them. “It can wait. Let us first discuss our plans. I truly am sorry that I have ruined everything, but perhaps, as Capt Rogers says, we can make the best of it. Perhaps we might get to know the society of Bath. They have a playhouse, do they not? And I’m sure that between the lot of us, we must have some connections here whom we could call upon. I’m not sure I’ll be the most desirable company, given my current state, but the rest of you should not dally on my account. Lady Whitney, Jim? Have you any ideas?”

“I fancy a visit to the baths would be most pleasing,” Lady Whitney said. “Of late, my skin has troubled me greatly, and my surgeon has recommended the restorative properties here to better ease my ailments.”

“I think it will be a lovely pause after so long on the road,” Rhodes said. “I’ve never had the pleasure of spending long in Bath, and I feel it would be soothing for us all.”

Capt Rogers’ party was also in agreement and so they decided to stay at least the week prescribed by the surgeon, if not longer, and decide the following Tuesday whether or not to move on based on Anthony’s condition. That night after the evening meal, Lt Col Rhodes joined Anthony in his rooms and watched as he read Lady Janet’s letter and penned her a response. She wrote to him with great excitement:

_My dearest Tony,_

_It pleases me to no end to discover that you have ventured from the bosom of your family into this, the wider world, but it also hurts me that you did not deign to venture a more circuitous route to visit me in your travels. I long to see you again, and I know that you would enjoy my home estate in early spring. If the summer months are long and lazy, spring is fierce as Aphrodite, equally torn between storms and sun, and all the flowers dew-kissed and draped in honeybees. If you will be long in Somerset, I may journey to see you there. I have a beautiful bolt of silk from the Orient, and I had hoped to make something for you with it, but that cannot be achieved without your kind and good presence._

_I hope that this letter has found you in Bath, for if you are there, I have a friend to whom I would introduce you. She is Countess Natalia Alianovna Romanova, a Russian noble travelled to England. I cannot speak of her reasons for coming, for that would be a breach of trust I dare not commit, but I believe you and she are cut of the same cloth and that you will find her company most pleasing. I urge you, if you have the time and if you have an open heart, to reach out to her, for I think she’s lonely on our shores, and you, too, are a lonely man, dearest Tony._

_Ever yours,_

_Janet Van Dyne_

 

Anthony finished his own lengthy response to Lady Janet, relating their adventures on the road thus far and expressing his hope that he might meet Lady Natalia in the days to come, and upon completing the letter he told as much to Lt Col Rhodes as well. Jim was agreeable to the notion and promised to drop his card at the Lady’s residence the following morning. Once introductions were made, and once Anthony had had a second day to recoup, perhaps they could then call on the Countess together.

 

* * *

 

The second full day in Bath was spent in boredom for Anthony, though Lady Whitney returned early to treat him to some company. She told him that they’d discovered the playhouse Anthony had mentioned and that they’d also been invited to a small party hosted by a Ms Wanda Maximoff and her brother Master Pietro Maximoff. The Maximoffs were acquaintances of Ms Hill’s and had been eager to see her—though they were sad that less than fortuitous circumstances had halted the party’s traveling progress, they were only too delighted to act as hosts in Bath. They sent along a small cordial invitation with an additional note expressing their wishes that Anthony might be recovered enough to attend—they would make every accommodation for him and were most eager to make his acquaintance. The Stark name was known to them through Duchess Margaret, and they had always heard only the best of the younger son from her.

Anthony was flattered by their invitation and determined that he would be well enough, one way or another, to attend the party. He therefore was an uncharacteristically good bed patient, resting his ankle and calling on the maid for things he might otherwise have seen to himself. Lady Whitney seemed charmed by his obstinate attitude toward all health-related matters.

“You act as if reading in bed is a great hardship, Master Stark.”

“Ah Lady Whitney, you speak as one who was able to spend a proper childhood playing and amusing yourself out of doors, whereas my early years were ever spent in bed reading and gazing with a most mournful attitude out the window of my bedroom. I assure you, I’ve had more than my fair share of such idleness, indeed enough to last a lifetime, and I wish only to be rid of my condition as soon as possible, so that I may enjoy the fine company and entertainments you and all of Bath have to offer.”

“Such spark in you, Master Stark. I daresay the moment you are out of bed, you shall be running circles around me.”

Anthony laughed and was pleased to find that in Lady Whitney’s presence, he was largely able to forget his woes. She was cordial and intelligent, and her conversation was stimulating without being pressing as Mr Stone’s turns of phrase often became. In fact with Mr Stone gone, she seemed a great deal warmer, and was more prone to smiling or laughter when they conversed. Anthony learned through her stories that she greatly enjoyed the arts of fencing and horseback riding. Her admirable qualities even extended to business, which she discussed at only a perfunctory and sensible length, but still with enough tact and acumen to alert Anthony to her shrewdness and economy. She seemed a fine sort of woman, and at two thousand a year would keep a comfortable if not lavish living, but he suspected her interest in him was only genial and not born of any real affection—all the same he appreciated her efforts to entertain him and his day in bed was whiled away most agreeably. When the others of their party returned, Anthony descended to the dining room with much aid from Lt Col Rhodes and took supper surrounded by friendly faces. For all that the journey was not going as planned, he found that his heart was filled with gladness and warmth in a way it had not been in many years.

The following day, his ankle was much improved, so much so that he was able to wear the new boots Jim had acquired for him and make his way downstairs on his own, where he took a late breakfast and then took advantage of the inn’s small garden to sit out of doors and enjoy his book. He was joined unexpectedly by Lady Sharon, who brought with her a parasol and a hunting rifle, which she set to cleaning with an expert hand.

“I had hoped,” she told him, “that we might take more advantage of the sport to be had on our journey thus far, but Cdr Barnes is so eager to see his sisters that he did not permit a rest of any kind on the road. Now that we’ve found some time for leisure, Capt Rogers, Cdr Barnes, myself, and Ms Hill are traveling out of town for some shooting. With any luck, we’ll have a brace of coveys and be back in time for a bath before supper.”

“Do you think it prudent to be shooting in unfamiliar lands?” Anthony asked, glancing out toward the rolling hills that surrounded Bath. He found himself worrying for those of the party departing on their venture, and perhaps he lingered a little longer than prudent on one name in particular.

“They are not unfamiliar to me, Master Stark. I have hunted here before, and Ms Hill is also familiar with the lay of the land. We will lead our fool officers on a merry chase if I should have my way.”

Anthony chuckled and set his book aside. “I wish you the best of luck. As a young boy, Capt Rogers could never bear to let stand any claim that he was incapable of anything. Once, one of the stable boys told him it was impossible for anyone less than six feet tall to ride Cabul, a grand stallion in the Duchess’ stables. Capt Rogers could not bear being told such a thing and next we knew, there he was flying across the countryside on Cabul’s back, holding on to the edge of the saddle for dear life.”

Lady Sharon laughed and hid her mouth, eyes dancing. “He has never shared that story. Clearly, he is disguising his childhood with only those tales in which he was triumphant. I must come to you more often, Master Stark, to learn what he has hidden from me.”

The prospect daunted Anthony, but he dared not show the pain such interactions might cause him, so he smiled and answered amiably. Shortly thereafter, the hunting party commenced and Anthony could hear the sound of their departing merriment even from where he sat at the back of the inn. He did not envy them that sport—though he enjoyed being out of doors when he could and he found horseback riding a pleasing enough way to spend an afternoon, the prospect of shooting had never pleased him, particularly when the targets were those creatures which would not even provide a meal—at least coveys could be made into a fine pie, but the poor fox or odd badger was only ever a creature to be cruelly run down and torn apart by dogs. He wondered if Capt Rogers truly enjoyed such sport or if he too saw sensibility in killing only that which would be made useful. His thoughts on the matter faded away by the time Lt Col Rhodes returned with Lady Whitney in the mid-afternoon.

“We’ve just been to see Lady Janet’s friend Lady Natalia,” Lady Whitney exclaimed, pink-cheeked and dewy with the growing heat of the day. “What a most intriguing woman—I’ve never met her like in all of England or France. I daresay she would make the king himself shiver and quake if she were of a mind to. I do hope she’ll teach me her ways.”

“Good God woman, we do not need two of you,” Rhodes groused, sitting across from Anthony. “I can understand why Lady Janet likes her but she is altogether a creature made to beguile one such as myself. I would be happy only to watch her from afar, rather than be close enough to endure all her stinging barbs and arrows.”

“Heavens, Jim, what did she do to you?”

Lady Whitney laughed merrily and squeezed Lt Col Rhodes’ arm, turning to Anthony with a conspiratorial air. “Why, she put him in his place. He was greatly puffed up speaking of his last battle, but she had read the papers and was quick to point out that the regiment was only afield a day before the armistice was called, so truly could his accomplishments have been so great?”

Anthony, too, laughed at this, though he endeavoured to hide behind his hand, if only to spare Jim greater indignity. All the same, he liked the sound of Lady Natalia already and was all the more eager to meet a woman who would so quickly put overblown pride in its place. If she was as marvellous and daring as Lady Whitney made out, Anthony would dearly love to see her visit his own household, uncharitable as the thought might be, so that his father and brother could occasionally be taught their own insignificance in the world. The moment he had the thought, though, he regretted its callousness and turned his attention back to Lady Whitney, who continued to speak.

“She was a marvellous creature, truly. She has invited you to a luncheon tomorrow and hopes that your injury will not impede such a visit—she says Lady Janet dotes on you as a hen dotes on her chicks, and so she too would like to take you under her wing.”

Having had his own pride soundly deflated, Anthony did not grudge the grin that Lt Col Rhodes now shewed to them, and he took the humour in stride. “I suppose it is true that I was once a chick to Lady Janet, but now I’ve hit that awkward gangly stage—half down and half plumage—I suspect I am in need of grooming.”

Lady Whitney, pleased to see that Anthony was not offended by the teasing, went to write a note agreeing to the visit and to make arrangements with the inn so that Anthony’s journey might be comfortable. In the meanwhile, he and Jim spent an enjoyable afternoon playing at chess and reading the papers together, discussing the changes to London society now that all the officers had come home to roost. The large increase in wedding announcements in the society pages was of much discussion—though Anthony knew few of the names personally, Jim was acquainted with a good many of them and always had an astute remark to make on the matches they’d found themselves.

“Truly it is a perverse thing,” Anthony said, “that there should be so few first-borns and so very many second-borns.”

“And third and forth, and even the rare fifth,” Jim teased, though gently for he and Anthony both suffered at the yolk of the birth order, the former for his primi lady love and the latter because as a secundi, the Stark family deemed him worthy only of a dowry and not of an inheritance. “I suppose we should be thankful that we are now beyond those days where a secundi would scheme and connive the downfall of a sibling in order to become primi and claim the inheritance.”

“I daresay there are still those who do scheme such things, but the law happily punishes them.”

“I do sometimes wonder. You are so intelligent Tony, that if you and Gregory were reversed—“

“Don’t say another word about it,” Anthony snapped, perhaps too harshly, but it was a thought he himself had had many times, and he did not like to dwell upon it.

Lt Col Rhodes frowned, but proceeded to let the matter rest as Anthony had requested. In the warmth of a late spring afternoon, Anthony wanted nothing less than to contemplate the capricious will of fates which deemed one person more important than another only because of their birth order. Why, imagine what it would be to have a twin! A child born only a scarce few minutes before yourself, but by grace of that birth, given opportunities and accolades the like of which the second child might never see. Anthony supposed that he ought to be grateful for what progress had been made, that his brother could not sell him off like a haunch of pork the way second-borns of standing in centuries past had been, but the pressures and expectations placed on him were nonetheless a weight he would not wish upon his fellow man, and he felt the strain of their yoke the way Atlas felt the weight of Terra upon his shoulders.

Just as dusk fell, the hunting party returned with a fruitful parcel of game fowl, which were given to the kitchen to prepare. With no social plans, they dined together at the inn, partaking of the catch and discussing (or in Anthony’s case listening politely) the merits of hunting in the Bath area. Ms Hill and Lady Sharon seemed quite pleased by the venture, but Capt Rogers was again stone-faced as he had first been upon his return last autumn, and Cdr Barnes was not able to fully conceal his own concern for his companion. With tempers visibly frayed, the party retired early and Anthony wrote again to Lady Janet to tell her of his arrangements to see Lady Natalia on the morrow. He wrote also of the general pleasantness of Bath, but he feared his heart was not present in his letter and that Lady Janet would soon divine what a toll this journey was taking upon him, for all that he was now able to better comport himself with delicacy in front of the others. If she had her way, he suspected she would be upon him by the time they reached Somerset, ready to scoop him away again that he might be spared further heartbreak. If only distance were all that Anthony required, he would have mended long ago.

 

* * *

 

The following morning, Anthony’s ankle was only barely tender, though Lt Col Rhodes insisted that they still hire a sedan chair for him. The mortification of being hauled through the streets like some gouty merchant was all but unbearable to Anthony, but none of the party would hear speak of him riding horseback, never mind his dignity. He was loaded into the sedan and trotted through the streets like a prize turkey. Lt Col Rhodes and Lady Whitney sat astride fine horses from the inn and kept apace with the litter, shouting occasional directions over the din of the crowd, the entertainers, and news boys standing at the corners. Unaccustomed to such noise, Anthony was glad only for the peace of the sedan chair, which afforded him some small measure of quiet even amongst all the humanity of Bath. It was not a long walk to the Countess’ lodgings, so his indignity was short-lived, and by the time the door had opened to allow him to exit to the street, Jim was already at his side, ensuring that he did not fall and further injure himself. Lady Whitney dismounted with the grace of a dancer and hurried them to the door, where they rang the bell and were ushered into the drawing room. There Lady Natalia awaited them.

At first glance, Anthony felt as though his senses might leave him entirely—he had never beheld such a woman before. Seated in an attitude of attentiveness, as though located in the centre of a fine oil painting, Lady Natalia was haloed in a fine array of scarlet silk damask, her hair arranged elegantly and nobly upon her head, delicate curls framing her face. Her features were aristocratic and fine-boned, as though she were a porcelain doll come to life, and the perfection of her toilette sent a dart of envy through Anthony’s heart. Introductions were made on his behalf and he was invited to sit at her side. Next to her graceful posture, Anthony felt himself a clumsy cow, and for a time he did not dare speak as the others discussed the hunting from the day before and the luck had by the others of their party. He could not escape conversation forever, however, and Lady Natalia eventually turned to him.

“I’ve heard so much about you, Master Stark, from Lady Janet.” Her English was barely accented, only the slightest hint to announce that she was from some country other than this one. “She would have me believe you are a man of spun sugar and sunshine, though I suspect she perhaps does not see your iron spine.”

“Iron spine, My Lady? I’m afraid I’m flesh and blood, just as you are.”

From hooded lashes she gazed at him, and he felt pierced through on the spot, the way a deer must feel when it has been run through by the arrow. “I suspect not, Master Stark. You’ll forgive my frankness, I hope. I am not yet used to all the English step-dancing around one subject or the next—I am used only to speaking my mind. But Lady Janet has shared with me your troubles and hearing them, knowing those things you have endured, I am impressed with you.”

Lady Whitney tittered, though her tone shared the unease Anthony himself was feeling, and said, “Master Stark certainly is an accomplished secundi—he does his father and brother credit—but I cannot imagine what you must mean Lady Natalia.”

“It is, I am afraid, a private matter. But one with…with circumstances. He and I share circumstances.”

Curiosity piqued, Anthony wished to hear more from her, but could not ask her to speak openly of the matters he suspected she referred to in such mixed company. He did not know when they might address such a delicate subject—perhaps only in writing would he learn to what she referred—but the way in which she looked at him, the impressive steel behind her gimlet eyes, suggested to him that she indeed knew of what she spoke, both of her own situation and of his.

Thereafter a pleasant day passed in conversation, and so enamoured were they all of Lady Natalia, that they invited her to dine with them at the inn, boisterous and blusterous though the crowd always proved to be. Lady Natalia took all in good stride, seated at a place of honour on Capt Rogers’ right-hand side. Her company was appreciated as much by the rest of the party as Anthony himself had enjoyed it, and over a fine feast of venison, they discussed what other amusements they might find in Bath before their journey continued onward. Lady Natalia was an ardent adherent to the art of ballet, but she said there was little to be found of such refined entertainment in Bath. Instead she suggested the playhouse that Anthony had previously mentioned as a suitable entertainment for an evening. Additionally, she too was invited to the Maximoffs’ party, which would close their final day in Bath, and she was eager to see them all there as well.

“Tell me, My Lady, how long do you intend to stay in Bath?” Cdr Barnes asked.

Lady Natalia said, “As long as Bath suits me, Mr Barnes. I’ve determined that I shall see the fine sights of your English countryside in bloom through the spring and summer. I fancy myself a bit of an herbalist, and I’d like to know more about the plants that grow here. They all have such quaint names.”

“Perhaps then, My Lady, you would consider accompanying us when we quit Bath? My family’s lands in Somerset, where the sea makes all cool and fresh and new again, I think may be to your taste. At the very least, we might be able to expand your apothecary.”

To those seated at the table, it was clear that Cdr Barnes was smitten already—he could barely take his eyes from Lady Natalia, and Capt Rogers, seated between them, looked most uncomfortable to be in such a position, as at the round place setting he could not easily converse with those beyond his immediate vicinity. Across from him and just to the right, Anthony bore witness with perhaps more amusement than was appropriate, but it brought him back to younger days, when Capt Rogers barely knew how to express or receive affections from anyone and instead merely tripped this way and that in the course of conversation, flushing first rose pink and then gradually growing darker still as his consternation grew. As a grown man of status, he seemed better in control of himself—his flirtations with Lady Sharon had produced no similar awkwardness or ruddiness—but even now between his companions there was something of overwhelming stiffness in his posture, and he determinedly sipped at his soup as Cdr Barnes and Lady Natalia continued their conversation on Somerset—the lady expressed her great interest in seeing Cdr Barnes’ place of birth and the Commander returned that he should shew her only the finest places in Highbridge that she might be enchanted with the greenery and the sea. The rest of the table, being well aware of the situation, was all too happy to gently tease and guide the conversation in an attempt to maintain decorum, but they were all of them young and even Lt Col Rhodes more than once was caught hiding a smile. Such impetuousness they all wielded and with such easy manner that all too soon it was decided that Lady Natalia would join them when they left, there being an empty place in the carriage in any case.

Youth truly is a wonder, for it produces in those yet blessed with it a certain character that in excess might be called carelessness, but in proper proportion adds an air of merriment and intimacy which cannot but be mutually attractive. Is it any wonder then that Lady Natalia yielded to Cdr Barnes indecorous invitation, or that young Anthony and young Steven fell in love at only the first and fullest bloom of age, ever in each other’s company, both merry and not yet burdened with the expectations of society? All the same, seeing the impulsive advances of Cdr Barnes to Lady Natalia, who he imagined to be of an age with himself, Anthony could not help but wonder if such blushing first love were steady or even prudent. But then, turning and seeing the fine man the Captain had become, his quality of character, his steadiness of heart, Anthony knew that his choice of partner had not been incorrect. No, it had been Anthony’s own capriciousness and tentativeness that had done them in, and now, the damage long in the past, there was nothing for it but to move on.

He remained quiet the rest of the evening, making only what conversation was required to maintain civility, and retired early, yet again, troubled at his inability to cease the thoughts that churned in his head like the roiling of a storm at sea. Every time he thought he had mastered himself, some new discovery pulled him this way or that, as crashing waves buffered a ship. The frustration he felt with his own mind and heart far outweighed the pleasures of the trip, and that very fact was enough to draw from him almost an ire—he had suffered seven long years, now nearly eight, and had he not suffered enough? Intolerable. On the morrow, he would do his utmost to pay mind to Lady Whitney—she was pleasant and gracious and moreover she had the approval of his father and brother, which Anthony could hardy say for any other suitor he’d ever considered worthy of his attentions, and in time his fool heart would callus over and he would sink into this rut no more. So he swore to himself, snuffing his candle and turning into his bedclothes for what he hoped would be a deep and dreamless sleep.

 

* * *

 

The following day, Anthony was careful to keep his vow. He was attentive to Lady Whitney in all things, overjoyed to accompany her to the baths—he was now walking easily, though all his companions were ever maddeningly reminding him that he must take care not to injure himself again—where they parted each to the primi and secundi sides. The rest of their party was along as well, but at least amongst only the secundi, Anthony need not be reminded of that which he was determined to put from his mind. Lady Sharon and Lady Natalia were grand company and the healing waters seemed to lift all their spirits, such that they emerged fresh and bright. Anthony felt light in a way he had not in years, his spirits high and his chest feeling strong and broad as it rarely had since his childhood. His companions, too, noticed this change within him.

“I believe this travel truly is doing you a world of good,” Lady Sharon said, looking upon him with the same demure coyness Lady Margaret sometimes employed. “Even with your injury and your various ailments, you seem to be glowing.” For a moment, Anthony was transported to the bosom of those who cared most for him, especially as Lt Col Rhodes emerged from the primi bathing area, shining and magnificent, skin still dewy.

“Yes,” he agreed, joy evident in the twinkling of his eye and the flash of his teeth. “I do not believe I’ve seen Tony look quite so blooming in years. Your complexion, Tony, is much improved, and I dare say it almost seems as if you’ve grown an inch or two.”

“Hardly,” Anthony said, though secretly he was pleased with the observation. When Lady Whitney emerged, he was quick to attach himself to her, and they passed the afternoon in amiable conversation. If his heart did not flutter at her approach or her laughter, he nonetheless felt a kind of ease at her side that he’d not felt from those other suitors of her stature, and in turn she seemed charmed by his talk of ship-building, which endeared him to her and made him wish to know her better. They spent the evening together as well, seated side-by-side at the playhouse, heads bent together in a gentle arc as they discussed this turn or that in the plot, commented on the actors’ performances, and shared in the delicate tea cakes served at the intermezzo. Overall it was a positively capital day for Anthony, and he’d barely turned his attentions from the Lady Whitney for a moment. Moreover, his diversions were compounded, for when they returned to the inn, he discovered that he’d received a letter from Mr Stone. Though penned in haste, Mr Stone’s _écriture_ was of an unexpectedly high calibre, and the eloquence he applied in speaking of his business ventures and his desires to be done with them that he might rejoin the party were enough to move Anthony to both empathy and affection. So moved was he by the tenderness and gentility of Mr Stone’s letter that he sat awake for another hour, though the night was drawing on, and penned a reply so that it might be sent out in the morning.

The following day was the social gathering at the Maximoffs’ residence, and so the party remained indoors, resting and preparing for what promised to be a diverting but also taxing night. Lt Col Rhodes called on Tony thrice to ensure that his health was indeed at peak and that he would require no assistance in reaching their destination.

“For heaven’s sake, Jim, did we not traipse over half of Bath yesterday? Did I not, on my own two feet, venture up and down the cobblestones with nary a stumble?”

Rhodes, for his part, had the decency to be abashed. “Forgive me, Tony. I am your guardian in this venture, and I only wish to see that you are happy, your spirits high. It would not do to start the evening with a fit of palpitations or another turn of the ankle. How will you dance with Lady Whitney if you cannot rise from a chair?”

“Who says I plan to dance with Lady Whitney?”

“My dear Tony, do you think me blind? You doted on her the whole of yesterday, and I daresay she returned the attentions, did she not? She promised to lend you a military treatise on naval battles between the French and English, did not she not? Her attentions, to my eyes, are marked.”

“Perhaps,” Anthony murmured, though he dared not expound on his own reasons for his sudden ardour. He knew in his heart that it would only dampen Rhodes’ enthusiasm, and he wished above all to please the friend who had done so much for him. Instead, he turned to Rhodes and gestured to his trunk, where he’d laid out several suitable party clothes. “I’m afraid everything I’ve brought is too bucolic for the society of Bath. You have travelled their circles better than I. Perhaps you might advise me?”

 

* * *

Ms Maximoff and Master Pietro proved to be lovely and gracious hosts. They stood attentively in their foyer, welcoming guests and directing them to the drawing room or the octagonal hall as the small crowd flowed back and forth making merry and drinking port. Ms Maximoff was a stately woman dressed in a shocking red overcoat—Anthony had never seen such a colour on a primi and it endeared him to her immediately, though he suspected his father would say she was a pretentious dandy unfit for her station. Master Pietro was slim and lithe, his hair already nearly white, the poor fellow. But when he spoke, it was with a youth and vigour so great that he very nearly seemed too young to be hosting such a party or to be out in society at all. Anthony had to hide a smile at his impetuousness, reminded as he was of himself at a younger age.

Greetings and introductions made, they were ushered into the octagonal hall where nearly a dozen other guests milled about. In the smaller drawing room, there appeared to be six or seven present, Lady Natalia among them. A party of twenty-five then, a rousing gathering they all agreed. There were several older members of Bath society amongst them, including the Maximoff’s distinguished father Mg Erik Lehnsherr, who had taken up his family name again after his wife Ms Natalya Maximoff died of consumption shortly after her children were born. Anthony had it through Cdr Barnes that Mg Lehnsherr took great pride in his family name and was quick to anger at anyone who would malign him for his choice. Anthony, however, found it an admirable and could see where Ms Maximoff might have acquired a personality which made her comfortable in wearing a colour so bizarre to her station. This is also when he learned that the Maximoff siblings were twins, and for a moment, he was reminded of his discussion with Jim a few days before. Truly to look at them, one would never guess that they were born upon the same day, for Master Pietro's manner was infinitely more youthful than his sister's.

With older society present, Anthony’s traveling party leaned on their dignity more heavily than they had in evenings past, and as a result, Anthony found himself keeping almost improperly close to Lady Whitney’s side, relying on her to lead him through the social niceties expected in more urban centres where country-folk such as himself rarely ventured. Happily, they were seated together to dine as well, and their table companions, Master Simon Williams, Ms Clea Strange and her husband Mg Stephen Strange, and Master Clinton Barton, all proved most diverting people, though Anthony privately felt that Mg Strange must be very fond of the sound of his own voice. Master Barton had a wicked sense of humour and was quick to tease, though when he saw that his words cut Anthony more deeply than perhaps intended, he was also quick to soften his speech, such that he became warm rather than brazen. With their little pocket of the table so often in laughter, it was a wonder any other guest managed any conversation whatsoever.

Following dinner, they were all ushered back to the octagonal room, and the double doors to the drawing room were also thrown open so that the party might mingle freely and they all might enjoy the music of the piano forte that was uncovered for their use. Word got around quickly that Anthony was an accomplished player and after much coaxing, he was set to the keys to provide a bit of light dancing music. Even through all this, Lady Whitney remained at his side, though she did talk with a great many of the party as they circulated the rooms. Anthony was conscious of the eyes upon them both, the gossip that must be spreading as quickly as fire through the halls, and shortly thereafter, he assumed, through the whole of Bath. Anthony imagined that by tomorrow his father would have word that Anthony and Lady Whitney were in the throes of passion and that a marriage was sure to follow soon after, never mind that it was several days’ carriage ride to Kent. In any case, the rumours would please his father and Gregory, even if there wasn’t the slightest bit of truth to them.

After a few songs, Anthony begged off and was replaced by a spritely young woman, a Ms Kate Bishop who played most fantastically, though she claimed to prefer the violin when she could get hold of one. She started up a merry jig straightaway, and before he knew what was happening, he and Lady Whitney were pulled into the throng of dancers who’d taken up the middle of the hall. He did not often dance himself, always fearful that it might throw his heart into a fit, but he could not resist when the revellers looked so lively. In the spell of a good dance, Anthony was able to forget at last the eyes and expectations of those around him, and he gave himself over to stepping, hopping, and clapping to the beat, grinning outright as Lady Whitney laughed and matched him. He could not remember the last time he’d enjoyed such a party, and he found himself grateful to at last be in the company of friends and peers who deeply cared for him and owned that he was a fine fellow worthy of time and affection.

As the clock neared midnight, they bid adieu to the fair Maximoffs, promising to write at the earliest convenience and pleased to have made such wonderful connections. They all agreed they would have liked to stay later, but their carriage was due to set off to Somerset early on the morrow, and none of them fancied the prospect of being ill or poorly slept for the journey. Anthony retired to his room, a smile still holding fast to his lips, the dancing tunes of the evening playing in his ears. The maids had already packed away his things, and so he undressed and laid out his party clothes at the very top, falling into bed exhausted but exhilarated. Oh that he should never have to return to Stark Manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say that you all have been such stellar commentors on this story. Thank you all for leaving such beautiful sentiments. I do reply to comments, but I tend to do it large batch style, so one of these days I'll get to that, but in the meantime, I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate all your kind words.
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://arukou-arukou.tumblr.com/) for more fanfiction and nerdery.


	6. Ch 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The arrival at Somerset brings great joy, but great joy can quickly turn to great sorrow.

They departed Bath at eight in the morning, with Lady Natalia joining them, looking as perfectly put together as she had on the day Anthony had first met her. For travel she dressed rather more sombrely, in a slim grey gown, but even so, Anthony could not help but note how Cdr Barnes’ eyes followed her as she was handed up into the carriage that housed Anthony, Lt Cl Rhodes, and Lady Whitney. Her wit on the road proved equally adroit and amusing, and she was surprisingly knowledgeable of the countryside through which they rode, though she claimed never to have travelled it herself. They had only a brief stop for lunch, partaking of bread, cheese, and hard sausages packed for the trip, and as such they arrived in Somerset at the Barnes’ estate even before sundown. It was quite a sight, watching as three young women all dashed out of the house in a manner most unbefitting, only to bury Cdr Barnes in a pile of laces and ribbons and fair white arms. They all of them laughed together, their chestnut hair bright in the sun, their parents hanging back at a more proper distance, both smiling. Anthony could not imagine a similar such reception for himself in his own estate.

When the reunion was done, Cdr Barnes introduced the rest of their party, making great effort to be solicitous to all present, and his mother Ms Barnes stepped forward to make her own greetings. Mg Barnes was perhaps a bit cooler, but he also looked to be a bit gouty in the legs and moved stiffly when he walked, as though his health might not be such as it once was. They were ushered into the household, where dinner had been held for them, and all ate at the grand table, swelling its ranks to fourteen. “In the morning,” Cdr Barnes declared, “I shall walk you all to the seaside. It’s a breath-taking sight, surely one that must be experienced by any who venture as far as our little county. I do hope you’ll all agree to come.” They all heartily acquiesced and Anthony was shocked to find himself looking forward to the venture. He had seen the sea only a handful of times before, and each time it thrilled him immensely and captured his imagination as little else could. With such wonderful company as the folk arrayed around him, he could hardly hope for more in this world.

Exhausted from their travel, the party retired early, all sleeping soundly in the grand appointments granted them by the Barnes. That they could house eight separate guests said a great deal about Cdr Barnes own situation, and Anthony wondered if the Lady Natalia paid heed to such things—she herself must be independently funded, or else how could an unmarried secundi wander about the whole of Britain so freely? Or perhaps customs were different in Russia and she was not so restricted as Anthony might have been, had he himself attempted such a journey. Or perhaps her travels were written off merely as foreign eccentricity, and that was how she was able to avoid the scandal such a pilgrimage would cause a native English person along the way. In any case, in his grand bed, Anthony was quite at ease and slept a dreamless sleep, waking just at dawn to the sound of song birds and sea birds alike.

He rose, made his ablutions, dressed, and ventured downstairs, where he discovered that Capt Rogers, Cdr Barnes, Lady Sharon, and Ms Hill were already tucking away a light breakfast. Conscious that he was the first of his side of the party to descend, Anthony nonetheless joined them at the table, sipping milk and making cautious comments on the place setting and beauty of the household.

“Have any of you visited Cdr Barnes’ household before?” he asked.

“I don’t believe Lady Sharon or Ms Hill have had the pleasure,” Capt Rogers replied, “but I visited here one Christmas when we were docked for the winter. The winter weather is treacherous, and I suppose we are not yet safe to call it spring in February, but the landscape is a magnificent one.”

“Do you mean to say there might be snow?” Anthony asked, turning to Cdr Barnes.

“Not snow, no. It very rarely snows here, but it can be awfully dreary with rain at this time of year. I do hope you’ll all stay until spring makes herself known to us. She can be truly lovely when she wishes, though the wind does blow incessantly. Like a banshee, it is. But when the sun shines down upon Highbridge, she is a blessed land, and I wish more than anything to show you all this. Do you suppose Lady Natalia likes the sea?”

“I have known her scarcely longer than you have, Commander, but given her love of plant life, I think she at the very least will enjoy seeing what manner of things grow at the water’s edge.”

“And you, Master Anthony?” Capt Rogers abruptly asked, startling the rest of the table with his unexpected volume. After a moment, bashfully, he clarified. “Do you enjoy the sea?”

“The few times I saw it, I did, and I do so like to imagine ships upon its waves. Did you know they’ve designed a new ship of the line to make way this spring? The papers are saying she’ll be the fastest yet on the seas, though perhaps a bit light at twenty canons. I believe Capt Danvers has been offered her.”

Capt Rogers blinked at him with an inscrutable expression. “I did not know you were so knowledgeable about His Majesty’s royal navy.”

“Oh, yes,” Anthony said, realizing only too late that perhaps he’d given himself away. “I read the papers, to be sure, and I’ve read some of the treatises. I am quite—er—“

Luckily at that moment Lt Col Rhodes joined them and Anthony was spared further betraying himself. In no short time the table was thrumming with early-morning activity, and Anthony sensed a great anticipation in those gathered at breakfast. Though no single person spoke excitedly or seemed particularly agitated, collectively the party reminded Anthony of nothing so much as a hive of sleepy bees on a late autumn morning, when the cold kept them waiting for the sun to warm the earth. Cdr Barnes sensed it, too, for at length he rose and said, “I know it’s not yet eight, but everyone seems so eager to be doing something that I propose, weather permitting, we walk to the village.”

They all agreed readily enough, so Cdr Barnes excused himself a moment, presumably to speak with the groomsman and discuss the day’s likely weather conditions. He returned quickly enough with his report: “The weather looks as though it will be fair all day, or as fair as it can be in the middle of February. Just now, the sunlight is watery, but perhaps we’ll be lucky and the clouds will break a little. I’ve asked the kitchen to pack picnic baskets for us, and I believe a walk along the beach followed by tea at the inn is in order. I think we can make a lovely day of it, though I do warn you to dress warmly, for even on fair days the wind is vicious.”

They all hastily left to change into clothes more suitable to a long walk in the chill air. Gathered in the foyer, they seemed even more the keen honeybees, and Ms Barnes, only just risen, commented jokingly, “Heavens, it’s like having eleven children all at once. Off you go.”

The Barnes estate was just south of the river, and Cdr Barnes aimed them toward its banks, which he informed them would take them on a charming walk straight down to the bridge for which the town was named and then on to the shoreline. The countryside was sparse—Anthony had never seen so few trees before, and even the occasional cottage seemed only a distant white speck. It was hauntingly lonely in its own way, especially with the fierce wind blowing in off the sea, chilly and loud as the baying of hounds, and all the grasses only just starting to turn back toward a more vernal green. And yet in the watery sunlight, surrounded by good company, he felt even more invigorated than he had at Bath, his constitution such as it had never been in his childhood. Was this what had always been meant by the bloom of youth? To think that even as a much younger lad he had never known such good humour. And yet he did not begrudge the circumstances of his early life—rather he was merely grateful that he had come to such a place and with such fine friends that he might at last be brought to life by the splendours the English countryside had to offer.

Those around him seemed equally revitalised by the rolling hills of Highbridge, the sea birds soaring above them and the scent of salt on the wind. Even Rhodes seemed youthful as he never had before, smiles coming more easily to his face, laughter more easily to his throat. The spirit of comraderie seeped into them all and warmed them from the insides as they chatted merrily, remembering Bath fondly and discussing what other amusements they might find during their stay at the Barnes estate.

In short time, they came upon the river, which was lined with stunted trees that had been twisted by the fierce sea winds, but just as they arrived the clouds broke and true sunlight shone down upon them, so that even such low things gained a certain charm. Cdr Barnes happily led the party out into the light to enjoy it while they could, and they walked bathed in early morning gold. At length, Anthony fancied he could see the road and the people passing back and forth upon it, mostly villagers and farmers if he had a guess. Here and there, a fine horse shone sleekly in the sun, and he found himself suddenly struck by the desire to ride. Perhaps the Barnes household might be willing to indulge him during his stay. As it was, he dashed ahead of the group, taken by the delight within him, tripping merrily through the grasses. Behind him, the party gave up a shout and a bout of laughter and then there was the thunder of footsteps, all of them barrelling toward the bridge and in truth giving the poor horses there quite a fright. When he reached the road, Anthony breathlessly apologized, cowed to see the poor creatures stirring in their trappings, and the masters of the beasts softened when they realized that Cdr Barnes was one of the party.

Caught up in a round of greetings they all were, and while Cdr Barnes made a report of his family’s wellbeing to those who had stopped to talk, Lt Col Rhodes took hold of Anthony’s sleeve and leaned in, speaking quietly but mirthfully. “What has taken you, Tony? I’ve never seen you in such a state, and I confess for a moment I thought perhaps you’d been spirited away in the middle of the night and another man left in your place. Perhaps it is the influence of a certain lady?” Rhodes said, looking significantly to Lady Whitney, who was greeting the villagers with great aplomb. Anthony could only shake his head and sigh, for he suspected that the source of his joy and health was to be found elsewhere.

At length, the party moved onward, crossing the bridge and walking through the town down to the shoreline where they found a suitable stretch of sand not too mired with mud and silt. First they rested, basking in the sunlight as lazy cats might, in spite of the chill wind, but soon enough Lady Sharon and Ms Hill were up to inspect the sea birds and the sucking mud that took up much of the shore, plucking at shells and examining hides to see if they might find hares or ground fowl to make for hunting and trapping. The rest of the party trailed after, though Lady Whitney remained with the picnic basket, intent on saving her fine boots from the mess of the muck. Anthony could not blame her, for though the seashore was charming, it was not easily navigable and he imagined that from the gravelled treks of the village, the ocean might provide a more amenable vista. All the same, colour in his cheeks, Rhodes at his arm, he carried on, pleased enough though he was now tiring. The sunshine which had blessed them so briefly disappeared again behind a wall of cloud, and they were left in the grey of February yet again. At length, Cdr Barnes, bowed in conversation with Capt Rogers, called that they ought to turn back, and Anthony suspected his waning strength was more apparent than he would like it to be, for Cdr Barnes young sisters still seemed ready to walk on.

When they returned to Lady Whitney, they partook of their quick noon meal, dining on hard cheeses, a few precious apples, hardy nutty breads and sausages, as well as a few choice bottles of wine shared amongst them. Thereafter, Cdr Barnes, aware that the party was growing cold now that they all sat still in the shadow of the wind, had them all up and heading toward the inn. The inn itself was charming enough, though small and beaten down by the sea as all the buildings in Highbridge were, but its fire roared warmly and the tea was just what the chill demanded. Once their large party was settled, taking up nearly a quarter of the room, Miss Rebecca Barnes demanded a reading of the books she’d brought and they all shared in a round of declamation, first a philosophical treatise from London and thereafter a book of poetry. The poetry was Lady Whitney’s contribution to the entertainment and she delivered it beautifully, occasionally glancing up at their gathered number with a look of sly solicitude which rather than being off-putting only made her oratorio more charming to their ears. Once they tired of reading, they settled to talking, but by late afternoon, the clouds had grown even heavier and it seemed the fair weather was at an end. Cdr Barnes had them gather up their things and hurry back to his family’s estate, only just beating the rain which lashed down with sudden and unexpected fierceness.

“Such is the weather in these parts,” Ms Barnes commented over dinner, taking in their wind chapped faces. “It’s hard on the village folk here, for it makes the growing season short and unforgiving, but I’d not give up the sea for anything. And it does make our livestock hardy, does it not?”

Mg Barnes murmured assent, and for some time they discussed the hogs raised by the farmer over the way, hogs which were apparently prized even in London.

After dinner, Ms Barnes pulled Anthony aside before he retired for the night, and handed him a letter which had arrived for him while they were away. Glancing down, he saw that it was in a hand that looked familiar but was not immediately identifiable. He thanked her and climbed the stairs to his room, where he read the letter by candlelight. He found it was from Mr Stone, having apparently been sent to their last address at Bath and thereafter forwarded to follow them on the road to Highbridge, and where Lady Whitney’s poetry had failed to stir in him that warmth which might forsooth greater affections with time, Mr Stone’s words were moving and passionate, almost to the point of indiscretion. Anthony blushed at the warmth that flowed through him on reading the letter—business was hardly mentioned at all and instead Mr Stone devoted nearly an entire page to a book which he’d been reading—and Anthony again found himself up late, penning a reply. His correspondence at home had never been so lively as it had become now that they were on the road, and it made him feel cherished as he rarely had before. He wondered, as he sanded the ink, if perhaps his own letter were imprudent, betraying a boyish eagerness no longer suited Anthony’s age or sensibilities, but he waved away such concerns. If the words and feelings conveyed in his letter were youthful and naïve, they could not be more so than had been his ill-advised romance with Capt Rogers all those years ago. That is what he told himself as he sealed the wax and set the letter aside. The deed done, there was no need to reflect upon its hastiness, and Anthony refused to let his good spirits be brought down. He settled in for the night, pleased and exhausted, ready for whatever the morrow might bring.

 

* * *

 

The following weeks at the Barnes estate were spent passed in much the same vein as their arrival had been, as the chill of February gave way to an unusually balmy March and all across the countryside flowers burst into bloom. Anthony continued to receive letters from Mr Stone, nearly every other day, and the beauty of his writing eclipsed any misgivings Anthony might have felt about his character when they’d first been introduced. A man who wrote so eloquently on matters which ranged widely from poetry to parliament to history must not be as bad as Anthony had initially feared, and he began to look forward to each new missive. At last, just before Easter, he received a letter informing him that Mr Stone’s business was at an end and he would soon be on the road from Liverpool. He promised that his next letter would contain sure dates of departure and arrival. Anthony had meant to share the news with Cdr Barnes and Ms Barnes so that a room might be prepared, but on that same fateful day, before the arrival could be announced at dinner, disaster struck.

Young as they were, their party walked to the village often, venturing toward the shoreline where most of the primi stalked through the mire at low tide and balanced precariously on the rocks at high tide—Anthony, wary of turning his ankle and determined to see that he not be coddled by the party again, stayed back with Lady Whitney, who maintained a certain air of aloofness in the face of such antics, Lady Natalia, who informed Anthony that she felt her time was better spent in conversation than in feats of physical mastery, and Cdr Barnes younger sisters, who were much more interested in society gossip than skipping from rock to rock. Lady Sharon, however, often as not joined the others, nimble as a deer in the way she danced on the razor-sharp edges of the shore rocks.

The morning had been rainy, and the rocks shone with a glossy wetness that should have served as warning enough, but Lady Sharon, who had proved herself time and again to be unintimidated by such dangers, dared her fellows to a leaping contest, dancing from one rock to the next. Capt Rogers, the tallest of the group and therefore the one with the longest stride, easily made leaps that gave the others trouble, and in one particularly daring jump from one boulder to another, Lady Sharon missed her step and fell. Immediately the lot of them rushed upon her, for after the initial and horrifying crack of her body upon stone, she made not a sound. She lay still in the rough shore grass, and Anthony immediately feared the worst. There was blood at her temple, and he could see more on the rock where she must have struck, its edge gouging a horrible wound in her skull.

Capt Rogers stared down at her as one who has seen a ghost, while Cdr Barnes and Lt Col Rhodes both bowed lower, pressing hands to her mouth and breast to make out if there was life yet in her. “A surgeon,” Rhodes snapped, looking up from where he crouched. “A surgeon. Immediately.”

Capt Rogers, as though possessed, turned and ran for the village at once, those long legs which earlier had betrayed Lady Sharon now carrying him like the swift West Wind.

“Is she…” Ms Hill breathed, looking on in horror as Cdr Barnes inspected the wound.

“She is breathing, though for how long, I cannot say.”

“We must get her inside,” Rhodes said, rising and looking to the village. “We shall take her to the inn. The Barnes estate is too far.” Cdr Barnes being unable to carry her, the job fell to Lt Col Rhodes, and he lifted her carefully, taking care to cradle her as one might cradle a babe, heedless of the blood which began flowing down his greatcoat and waistcoat. Three quarters of the way to the village, Capt Rogers arrived with the surgeon, who wasted no time in issuing orders to them all, chief among them that anyone not carrying the Lady step away for they were not doing any good gawking like a herd of cattle. This left their party aimless at the edge of the village, staring after Lt Col Rhodes and the surgeon as they turned the corner round the butcher’s shop and disappeared from sight.

Anthony hazarded a glance to Capt Rogers and found he could not look away from the agony wrought upon his face. Anthony had never seen the Captain in such a state before, and in response, Anthony’s own heart ached with shared guilt. How quickly such innocent play had turned to tragedy, how quickly feats of daring and amusement turned into the folly and incaution of youth. Anthony tore his eyes from Capt Rogers, intent on giving him a modicum of privacy, though in truth there was none to be had here, and instead began walking again, trailing the wake of Jim and the surgeon now that they had likely entered the inn. The party followed after him, their pace as slow as a dirge, their voices silenced by the gravity of their situation. They entered the inn and waited at a table, and after some time, Cdr Barnes shook himself from shock to ask for cordial for all of them, as well as course brown bread. The landlady, aware of their party’s misfortune, took it upon herself to provide them all with mince pies as well, though in the state they were, hardly anyone had an appetite of note, and they all picked at their meal only out of a sense of duty, their eyes ever shifting toward the stairwell in hopes that Rhodes or the surgeon might soon descend. Clouds moved in late in the afternoon, bringing with them an intense rain and a chill wind, in spite of the warm spring, and so Cdr Barnes had a note drawn up and sent to his mother, informing her of the situation, and he then ordered rooms for the rest of them—it was luck only that the season did not yet see the inn full up with travellers, for as it was, Anthony would be sharing a room with Lady Natalia, while Cdr Barnes and Capt Rogers would share, as would Ms Hill and Lt Col Rhodes. The three Barnes sisters would take a room as well, leaving only Lady Whitney alone for the evening.

Just as true night was drawing down upon them, the surgeon descended the stairwell and located their party, lonely as it was before the hearth, still nursing the pies now gone cold and largely untouched. At the sight of him, Capt Rogers rose and approached, as did Cdr Barnes. Anthony could not make out a good deal of what was said, but by the surgeon’s stormy face, he imagined it to be most dire, and he also guessed that there was anger, though at whom, Anthony could not presume to guess. When the surgeon had said his piece, Capt Rogers bowed, thanked him, and then ascended the stairs while Cdr Barnes returned to the table to deliver the prognosis.

“She lives, but she has not woken. The surgeon could not begin to guess when she might wake again, and has warned us to expect the worst. I am so sorry that you have all been here through this dreadful thing, and I must beg your forgiveness for my imprudence.”

“No, Cdr Barnes,” Lady Natalia said, touching his hand. All of them were drawn to stare at such an intimate gesture, both shocked and understanding that under such circumstances, decorum may be the last thing on anyone’s mind. “You must not blame yourself for this,” she continued. “if we were to take on all the sins of the world around us, every man and woman would be crushed under their weight. This is an accident, one which perhaps could have been prevented, but are not all such things? Here.” She poured out more cordial for him and then pressed until he drank it, never ceasing her attentions. Anthony wondered who would do such a thing for Capt Rogers now that Lady Sharon could not, and had to look away, happy for Lady Natalia, but at the same time aching very badly on Steven’s behalf.

A short time later, Lt Col Rhodes descended, his clothing still stained with blood, his face grim, etched with lines which belied his age, in fact made him seem a decade older than he truly was. He drew his greatcoat close and sat at the seat Capt Rogers had vacated, looking round at them all. “I apologize for my appearance. I’ll have the innkeeper order up new things in the morning. Capt Rogers will watch her for a time, and Ms Hill, I hope you’ll be kind enough to trade out with him come second sleep. As to the rest of us, I believe it is time we turned in for the night. Capt Rogers told me we have rooms, and after such a shock, I recommend we make use of them.”

The party broke, silent and heavy, and made their way to their rooms. Anthony was grateful for Lady Natalia’s hand on his shoulder, a calm and comforting presence in the black of night. In the chilly rain-dashed windowpanes, Anthony fancied he could see again and again the scene of Lady Sharon in her fall, flaxen hair streaming and her limbs reaching for aid that would be too late. That he would not be alone in this strange place, which until the terrible fall had been so welcoming and warm and kind but had now became cold and forbidding, was his greatest consolation. Each in their separate beds, neither Anthony nor Lady Natalia could sleep until the midnight hour had come and gone, and neither could they bear to speak, each caught up in their own thoughts, and through the drafts of the old sea-beaten inn, the wind howled incessantly.

In the morning, while gathered at breakfast, a groomsman from the Barnes estate arrived bearing letters from Ms Barnes and Mg Barnes as well as a letter for Anthony. James spoke briefly with the groomsman, passed a letter to him, and bid him adieu before returning to the party. Before the letters could be opened, Capt Rogers descended, looking haggard and unwell. If he had made an attempt at trimming his whiskers, it had been a poor one, and the shadow of his beard made his face appear gaunt. Miss Rebecca Barnes rose and took his hands, kissing each of his cheeks. “Take heart,” she whispered, and Anthony was embarrassed for having heard. She led Capt Rogers to the table, where he reported that Lady Sharon had not woken in the night and she remained lost to them, Ms Hill still at her side after a long and sleepless night—she had ordered breakfast to be brought up to her while the rest of them dined below. “Mother and Father will do everything in their power to help her,” Miss Rebecca reassured them, turning expectantly to have her brother confirm via the letters in his hand. He read aloud his mother and father’s response to the calamity and their reassurances that Mg Barnes would be by later in the day to see to them all and ensure they were comfortable. Anthony noted that even in the gravest of times, there was still something merry and bright about Miss Rebecca, who was next oldest after Cdr Barnes and who seemed to share her brother’s joviality. He was grateful for her determinedly light spirit, as the rest of the party was sorely lacking in mirth. “I am glad Father will join us soon to see to Lady Sharon,” she said, squeezing Capt Rogers hands again. She was so young that her actions hardly seemed impetuous or inappropriate. “Will the surgeon be again, today?”

“I believe so,” Capt Rogers said. “He was most accommodating.”

Miss Barnes nodded as Cdr Barnes handed the last letter over to Anthony. “Another letter for you Master Stark. What amazing correspondence you maintain!” Anthony endeavoured to hide his embarrassment, but he was not quite sure he succeeded, especially when he saw that the letter was in Mr Stone’s familiar hand. It would be untoward to read it at the table, and so he set it aside while they took their breakfast, their chatter a pale shadow of its usual self, all of them glancing up from time to time as though through the floorboards they might catch some hint of Lady Sharon waking. It was only when breakfast was nearly gone that Anthony noticed Lady Natalia, on his right, touching the edge of the parchment envelope. He glanced enquiringly at her, but she caught his eyes only a moment before withdrawing her hand, turning instead to the last of her sausage.

The surgeon returned shortly after they finished their meal and saw to Lady Sharon at once—he reported that he was pleased to see she’d survived the night, which was the most hopeful thing he could ask for short of her waking, and he suggested that his initial prognosis might be amended to a slightly more optimistic outlook. Hearing this, Cdr Barnes conferred with the other primi before decided that they would not do much good all lying about the inn, unable even to enter Lady Sharon’s room to look in on her, and if they left quickly enough, they could save Mg Barnes the trip to town—Anthony sensed Cdr Barnes was concerned about his father’s health. It was decided that Capt Rogers and Ms Hill would remain while the rest of their party would retire to the Barnes estate where they might wait anxiously to hear an outcome more to their liking. Just as all their time since Lady Sharon’s fall, the walk back to the estate was subdued and heavy, each member of the party lost in his or her own thoughts, though guiltily Anthony looked forward to reading the letter tucked against his breast—that he should have a spot of happiness amongst such a disaster seemed unjust and he did not wish to put others out with his news, though he knew at some point he must warn the Barnes of the precise date of Mr Stone’s coming.

Mg Barnes was just donning a coat in the entry hall when their party returned, and immediately apologized profusely for being so late in coming. He wished he might have comforted them while they were still in Highbridge rather than now, them having braved the chill wind and unforgiving countryside—the weather had changed in but a night, as though to match their own party’s misfortune, and was now so cold Anthony almost expected snow. They were ushered into the parlour and Mg Barnes rang for tea and hot port before calling another servant to stoke up the fire. Grateful for the warmth, Anthony at last felt he had time enough, now that they were all scattered about the room chafing their hands or sipping at steaming drinks, to open and read his letter. He did so discreetly near the window, immersing himself briefly in Mr Stone’s eloquence. As he’d suspected, Mr Stone was to set out today and expected to arrive in Highbridge in only a few days’ time. Anthony must alert the Barnes, but how best to do so when they were already preoccupied with Lady Sharon? Nonetheless, it would do worse to let it lie, and so he turned to seek out Mg Barnes only to discover Lady Natalia at his shoulder.

“Master Stark, would you care to accompany in a turn about the garden? I know it’s chilly and that we’ve only just come back, but it does my Russian blood good, having a bit of the cold on my skin, and Mg Barnes says the daffodils and asters have just begun to bloom. I wish to see them, and I would very much like some company.”

With no earthly reason to refuse, Anthony agreed, but he could see from the flash of Lady Natalia’s eyes that she intended a great deal more than a simple turn around the garden. Lt Col Rhodes, too, at least suspected something, for he eyed with great suspicion Anthony’s calling for his coat, muff, and hat—Anthony would join Lady Natalia, but he intended not to catch his death doing it—and Jim nearly followed them out to the hall. Only the shake of Anthony’s head warned him back, and in the end, it was only Anthony and Lady Natalia who ventured out, where the wind had grown even crueller with its bite. How the Lady could bear to be out only in her gown, not even a stole about her shoulders, Anthony could not begin to fathom, but he supposed the cold of Russia truly was of a different kind than even here on the very edges of England. When they’d rounded the corner of the estate to its west side where the wind was buffered by the manor itself, Lady Natalia at last spoke her mind.

“That letter, is that from a Mr Tiberius Stone?”

As though he’d been expecting the question all along, Anthony felt no sense of shock at all. “It is, My Lady. Do you know him?”

Lady Natalia’s mouth twisted then, into an expression that very nearly struck fear into Anthony’s heart, for in that moment he would have believed her closer to wolf than woman. “I know him, and I wish I did not. He is a cruel man, and I desire never to look upon him again, though to protect you, dear Anthony, I would do it.”

“Protect me? Whatever from? You must tell me.”

For a very long moment, so long that they nearly reached the far end of the manor, Lady Natalia was silent, and her fearful expression faded to an icy facade which reminded him of Athena in bare marble, aloof and prepared to strike down her enemies. At last, she spoke. “Mr Tiberius Stone, some three years ago, made love to my younger sister, Yelena. He acquainted himself with us in London, and at the time he seemed a most upstanding gentleman, calling often and accompanying us on all manner of adventures into the city. What I did not know, at the time, was that he was also writing love notes to Yelena, most passionate missives which drew her in as surely as the serpent tempted Eve. It was only when he encouraged her to elope that she made the affair known to me, and when I stepped in and put an end to things, he disappeared with five thousand pounds he’d taken right from Yelena’s hands, leaving not even a letter for her. She was driven nearly mad with heartbreak, and in the end I was forced to send her home to our older sister, Ida. My sister reports that Yelena is still unwell, even all these years later, and ever since the incident, I have not been welcome in our home, for Ida blames me for not noticing earlier Mr Stone’s foul intentions. He is a snake, Anthony, and you must not trust him.”

Taken aback, Anthony did not know what to think. He did not want to believe such a tale could be possible, and yet even in the breath of thinking it, he also remembered that at their first meeting, he’d had misgivings about Mr Stone based purely on his association with Gregory. For all that Mr Stone was amusing and more than willing to discuss the ship arts with Anthony, he was also a businessman, and one whom had been introduced amongst a pack of merchants engaged in trade and commerce Anthony suspected to be at the very least unsavoury if not deeply cruel. Additionally, Lady Natalia’s fervency in her delivery was such that Anthony could not help but believe her. To confess such a scandal was to divulge one of her family’s deepest shames, and Anthony did not imagine that she did so lightly.

“He is due to Highbridge in only a few days’ time, and he expects to take up residence with us here. I had invited him, as had Cdr Barnes. What shall I do? I do not wish to put you through such pains again, but if he is already en route, I do not know if we can stop him. And what’s more, the slight. My brother does business with him. If I offend him—“ Anthony could not bring himself to speak of the consequences, and his mind raced with possible plans. At his side, Lady Natalia laid her hand upon his shoulder, her palm startlingly warm in spite of the chill of the outdoors.

“Perhaps we could quit ourselves of the party? Make up some urgent business? Is there no context we might fabricate?”

Anthony considered for a moment and remembered Lady Janet’s letter. “Our dear friend Lady Janet Van Dyne in Sussex. Perhaps we might contrive to visit her?”

“Yes. Lady Janet would be more than happy to receive us, and she is aware of the scandal, for she helped me move Yelena beyond Mr Stone’s grasp. A visit to her estate would put us beyond his reach, for he would not dare attempt to visit you there, where his name is already besmirched. And once he learns I was in residence here, he will understand that his name is in jeopardy, for in desperation, I will reveal to Cdr Barnes what happened if I must. I am sure he would be discreet in providing aid as well.”

“What should we give as the cause?”

“Perhaps your health? You’ll forgive my saying, but it is known far and wide in this country that the younger Stark was ever of sickly constitution. This turn toward a chill might give us just the excuse we need. Can you do it, Anthony? Can you make people believe?”

“I certainly can. Jim will be suspicious, but I can tell him in private what cannot be shared in public, and he will be all too happy to aid Cdr Barnes in driving Mr Stone off, though he’ll be disappointed to hear that yet another suitor has turned out to be an impossible choice.”

“It’s decided then. And perhaps your acting had best begin now? When we return to the manor?”

“Yes. Thank you, Lady Natalia, for sharing what I’m sure are deeply unpleasant memories for you. I cannot begin to tell you how grateful I am for your warning. I’ve been a fool in love before, and then, as now, I was too rash. Without friends such as you, I do not know what would have become of me.”

Lady Natalia fixed him with a considering look which nearly set Anthony to shivering, but he could not begin to fathom her meaning behind it. At last, though, she laid her warm palm against his cheek. “We secundi must look out for each other, Anthony, or we would all of us suffer greatly.”

“My closest friends call me Tony.”

“Well, then, dear Tony, in private you must do away with all the ‘My Lady’ nonsense and call me Natasha, for I do not like to stand on ceremony with my closest friends either.”

 

* * *

 

Anthony was as good as his word, for the moment they stepped back in the manor, he set up a cough and pressed a hand to his chest, and he persisted in his croup all through dinner and into the evening. By the time he retired for bed, Mg Barnes, at the very least, had been convinced that Anthony was ailing, and he ordered hot port and compresses sent to Anthony’s room post haste. Lt Col Rhodes made one of the deliveries in person, and Anthony took advantage of the moment to deliver Lady Natalia’s worrying tidings. Jim was distressed, but quickly agreed to their plans, determined to deliver Anthony from harm’s way by any means necessary.

“You are too good to me by half, Jim. I don’t know how I will ever repay you.”

“You shall repay me by maintaining your happiness as best you can. Truly, Anthony, I do not know how such trouble always finds you. You do not wish to take Lady Whitney as a chaperone?”

“I’m afraid the ardour is cool on both ends, Jim. I’ll have Lady Natalia, who is of means and a good name. Traveling together, we will not draw nearly as much gossip as I would were I to travel alone.”

“I do not like leaving you, but I feel obligated to stay until Lady Sharon’s fate is known. Once we have word, perhaps I shall follow.”

“Nonsense. I know your heart lies elsewhere. You’ve looked after me quite long enough and I do not like to keep you from more pressing duties.”

Anthony slept in the next morning and did not come down until nearly noon, where he set to coughing again immediately. The others had ventured to town to check in on Lady Sharon and the others, leaving him with a solicitous Mg Barnes and a bustling Ms Barnes, who looked in on him now and then while she tended to business. By dinner, Anthony was ready to plead his case, and he did so as piteously as he could, apologizing for his illness, explaining that he believed it a result of the sudden turn in the weather, and assuring them that he went with a heavy heart. He expressed regret at having to part from the party before their journey was at an end, and even greater sadness at being unable to receive Mr Stone, whom he had so longed to see again. When the question of travel was raised, Lady Natalia quickly spoke up, suggesting that they travel south both for warmth and to visit their mutual friend Lady Van Dyne, and Anthony was relieved when no one in the party raised an objection.

Ms Barnes arranged for a carriage that very night and insisted that they be off the next morning before Anthony’s condition worsened. He felt a great deal of guilt for causing such trouble, especially when his own plight apparently pushed Lady Sharon’s case from all minds. Capt Rogers and Ms Hill remained at the inn, though the returned party delivered word that there was no change in Lady Sharon’s condition. Truly, between his feigned illness and Lady Sharon’s very real dire circumstances, the house was gloomy as they turned in for the night, but Anthony was also glad to be saving Lady Natalia from facing her tormentor again. Though he was saddened by news of Mr Stone’s poor character, he was glad to have gained such a true friend in her, and he was also glad to be off to Lady Janet’s, where his presence would likely be less awkward than it was here in the company of Capt Rogers and his closest friends.

They boarded the carriage promptly at nine the next morning, with a letter left from Anthony for Mr Stone containing sincere apologies and another letter for Capt Rogers and Lady Sharon, apologizing for their hasty departure and wishing Lady Sharon a speedy recovery. Anthony dearly hoped that she would soon read it and that she was not lost to them, if only for Capt Rogers’ sake. He would not wish ill on a woman who had clearly brought Steven such happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Natasha is the diminutive of Natalia. Who knew?
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://arukou-arukou.tumblr.com/) for more fanfiction and nerdery.


	7. Ch 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony and Lady Natalia make for Sussex before finally returning to Kent where they discover several unexpected persons.

The journey to Sussex was plagued by rain and bitterly cold winds, but Anthony still felt himself in good health and moreover he was determined to cheer Natasha, whom seemed saddened at having to part from Cdr Barnes’ side. Anthony had not considered the fact of their separation and the pain it might cause Natasha, who had already shown her affections in a time of great distress, and he was determined that he would brighten the road for her until such time as she could be reunited with her paramour, whether by post or by coach. He also found that he was excited to see Lady Janet, whom he had not seen in many years, and whose cheery disposition he longed for, especially as spring rounded the corner toward summer. At the tail end of the journey, beyond Worthing, the dreary weather gave way to warm spring sunlight and a rise in temperature, and Anthony could not help but feel that it portended a warm and genial visit.

Lady Janet was there at the door to greet them, apologizing on behalf of her father and mother who were off to the West visiting cousins, but it was made plain in her excitement that she was pleased to have them to herself, all the better for gossip. In this dangerous pasttime, Lady Janet could not help herself, as she took any societal intrigue to great heart and was determined to aid her friends in their endeavours even at the cost of propriety. She was eager to hear of their journey, of all that had happened in Bath, of how Anthony had handled himself when faced after so many years with Capt Rogers, of how they had escaped the perfidious Mr Stone—indeed if Lady Natalia had not put a stop to it, they may very well have ended up relating every meal imbibed upon the journey, down to the smallest crumb of bread.

“You must forgive me, Natasha. It’s been three years since last I saw you, and even longer since I saw dear Tony. But you have letters, for the post has beaten you here! Did you travel by snail? In any case, I see that one is from Cdr Barnes, one from Lt Col Rhodes, one from—“ here she sneered, wrinkling her nose in a fashion which in someone of lower station might be described as unbefitting but in her own small face it added a certain charm “—Mr Stone, and one from Lady Margaret, which I believe was forwarded along from the Barnes’ estate.”

“Nothing from my father or brother?” Anthony asked.

Lady Janet had the good grace to look embarrassed on the part of his family. “I’m afraid not, Tony. I’m sure they’re— Well, I’m sure nothing of note has occurred.”

They took their post in the drawing room, with Lady Janet insisting on hearing every word, which is how she discovered Lady Natalia’s affections for Cdr Barnes. “I have met him! He is a good sort, handsome and charming, though I daresay the wars have caused him to fall into black moods from time to time. And it is a shame about his arm! But how valiant, that he lost it in battle and that he remains handsome and kind in spite of it all! Natasha, I do not believe you could find a better husband. Do you intend to pursue a proposal? Do say you wish to marry him!”

Lady Natalia was more inscrutable than Lady Janet, but her mysterious smile was answer enough, for Lady Janet quickly fell into planning their reunion, plotting for the moment when they would meet again, painting a fantastical picture of candlelight and a ball and eyes meeting across a dance floor.

“Dear Jan,” Anthony teased, “have you been reading those novels again?”

“I don’t know of what you speak, Tony. My reading materials are all of the highest calibre.” She giggled as she spoke, however, and quickly produced the volume which had inspired her reverie, insisting that Anthony read it and report back to her his own thoughts.

Lt Col Rhodes’ report contained the same news as Cdr Barnes’, which was that Lady Sharon had awoken on the third day following her accident, the very day which Anthony and Lady Natalia had departed. She remained disoriented and unable to bear bright light or stand without dizziness, but she was well enough to chastise Capt Rogers and Ms Hill for “doting on her like a new-born.” Mr Stone had arrived two days after that, and Lt Col Rhodes also told Anthony that while he had been accepted into the Barnes’ household, it had been made clear in private discussions with both himself and Cdr Barnes that he was expected to leave the moment decorum deemed a departure appropriate and that he was never to contact any of them again.

In the face of such censure, Mr Stone’s letter was apologetic and entreating in tone, though surely he must have learned that Anthony travelled with Lady Natalia. Mr Stone spoke of his regret at hiding his past love affairs and painted himself as a poor victim driven away for being of a lower class, and he begged that Anthony might consider meeting again with him in town or perhaps in Bath so that he might set matters to right in person, but his words left Anthony with a turned stomach, and after careful consultation with Lady Janet and Lady Natalia, he determined that it would be safer not to answer at all, though it was insufferably rude. Given his letter hinted at the possibility of elopement, Anthony wished to give him no false hope or any opening through which he might sink his claws deeper.

Lady Margaret’s letter must have been written prior Lady Sharon’s accident, for it contained general good wishes for their stay with Cdr Barnes’ family as well as the report of home which Anthony’s own family had neglected to send him. Gregory was apparently keeping company with a young lady, Miss Maya Hansen, the daughter of a chemist and a shrewd creature, as invested in business ends as Gregory himself. Rumour had it that though her station dictated that she had no controlling stake in her mother’s affairs, she was often in the books making decisions to forward their profit margin. It sounded, to Anthony, like she and Gregory made a complementary pair, one which spoke only of business and themselves and little else. Lady Margaret’s tone made clear enough that Anthony himself would not care for Miss Hansen save in discussions scientific, but he hoped that with a paramour, Gregory might be softened in his own demeanour, or at the very least, less intent at marrying Anthony off as soon as possible. Lady Margaret’s letter also hinted that she was growing lonely without her charges to look after and that she hoped to see them again before the balmy days of summer truly descended. Anthony set about writing to her at once, relating both Lady Sharon’s health and his own, his regret at having to quit the party and his own hopes that he might rejoin her society soon. Of the affairs concerning Mr Stone he spoke not at all, and of Lady Whitney, he maintained a cordial tone, and hoped that Lady Margaret would understand that his father’s marriage schemes had again failed to produce a suitable match. He knew it would sadden her that he remained alone for the time, and that she would be concerned for Anthony, who would yet again be left to maintain the Stark manor alone while his father and brother gallivanted off on their business affairs in town, but in his heart he became surer and surer every moment that he had made the correct decision regarding his affections. It pained him to think of Capt Rogers and Lady Sharon, but they were so close now that an announcement must be only a matter of time, especially with the Lady now safely recovering her grievous injury. Anthony’s own pain paled in the face of their certain happy marriage—he wished only the best for them, after all.

Anthony, Lady Janet, and Lady Natalia spent happy days on the seashore, corresponding with their acquaintances in Somerset and Kent and keeping up on the naval logs as well as poetry. Though he was no deft hand with words like Lady Janet when she chose to be, he could appreciate a good verse when he read one, and Lady Natalia’s tastes were superb, introducing them to Russian works they might otherwise have overlooked. When she read in her own lilting language, it was as though they were transported to the very frozen plains from whence she and her poetry had come, and her powers of translation were impressive enough that she could render the verses beautifully in English for their understanding.

In the halcyon days of spring, Anthony’s health again bloomed, his figure fetching and his face rosy with vigour and health. He wished that he could spend all his days in such warm and comfortable company, but he also knew that eventually he would have to return to his family seat. Letters continued to come from Somerset, and two weeks after his departure from the party, Anthony was startled to discover, via a letter for Lady Natalia from Cdr Barnes, that Capt Rogers had left Lady Sharon’s side and returned to Kent. If Cdr Barnes wrote of any particular reason, Lady Natalia did not share it, and Lt Col Rhodes, in a later letter, reported that he was unsure of the Captain’s true reasons—he had told the party only that he wished to begin searching for an adequate estate, a chore he had put off far too long during their travels. Cdr Barnes remained on with his family, but indicated that he too intended to take leave soon to support his friend in searching for a property, and so preparations were being made by all to break and return to Kent. Of Mr Stone nothing was said, and Anthony assumed that that end at least had been tied off and left in the past.

It was shortly after this that Anthony received his own summons. His father wrote a perfunctory note, which read:

_Anthony,_

_You have been away quite long enough. Gregory and I shall be departing to London to arrange for autumn shipping routes and we do not wish to leave the manor in the hands of mere servants. You will return and oversee the manor’s upkeep. I expect you home no later than the twentieth. Be prompt._

“He did not even write a salutation,” Anthony murmured, not complaining when Lady Janet snatched the note from his hand.

“Truly they do not appreciate you. As if all you are good for is keeping a household! Do they not know of your brilliant designs? Your fine wit? No, of course not. But fret not, Tony. Natasha shall accompany you. Won’t you Natasha? Please say you will.”

“I have no pressing societal obligations and I do so long to meet Tony’s family in person.” The way she expressed the last sentiment put Anthony in mind of a cat toying with a mouse. “After all you’ve told me of them,” she continued, “I think Tony needs a friend with him, especially if he’s to be left rambling around a household all alone. But what of you, Jan? Will you not come, too?”

“I’m afraid I can’t! I’m off to Paris, where I’ll be purchasing silks and satins, velvets and wools! Tell me! What would you like? A dress for the winter season? Un chapeau? I shall bring back something astoundingly exquisite for you. And you as well, Tony. Perhaps some slippers? A bustled coat?”

Anthony accepted Lady Janet’s cordiality, but he would be sad to leave her side. His truest friends, he found, were always in high demand elsewhere, and he did not know how he would go on as their society was ever more beyond his reach, Lady Janet to the tailors and haberdashers of London and Paris and Lt Col Rhodes to his military obligations and Capt Danvers’ affections. Nonetheless, for the time being he would have Lady Natalia, and as cold and crude as his father and brother could be, Anthony did not believe that they could possibly offend the Lady’s unflappable nature. In fact, he rather expected that she would be the one to flap them, and the very thought of it warmed his heart.

At the end of April, a few days prior his father’s appointed deadline, Anthony and Lady Natalia set off for Kent, relishing the spring warmth which was quickly turning to a lazy summer heat. The vast greenery of the countryside stretched before their carriage, the winds blew warm, and they savoured these last steps of the journey as a companionable duo before they would again be plunged into the company of primi. Lady Natalia taught him more of Russian poetry, and a few things he imagined his father would be scandalized to discover Anthony knew—the usage of fine hat pins, for example, to drive off an unwelcome advance from an unsavoury character. The more he learned of her, the more Anthony felt that Lady Natalia might be the most fascinating secundi he’d ever had the pleasure of meeting, and he hoped that this was only the beginning of a long and fruitful friendship.

They arrived on the nineteenth, and Tony was immediately swept into the keeping of the household. Lady Natalia was given the most perfunctory of greetings, but both Mr Starks were busy making arrangements for their journey. The indubitable Miss Hansen was also present at the estate, but she was cold and aloof, keeping to her rooms in a manner that positively scandalized Anthony, but he dared not voice his opinion on such things when Gregory so clearly held her in high regard. She was seeing to his personal belongings in preparation for the trip, and Anthony took such actions as a clear indication that the affair between them was quite far along and that a marriage may very well be on the horizon. He had never imagined that Gregory could be tempted from his business for anything in the world, but perhaps they suited each other, or perhaps Gregory was looking to the future and considering possible successors, though he was only three years Anthony’s senior and yet had time for such things.

That evening, they dined at Lady Margaret’s estate, where Anthony made several startling discoveries. The first was that Lady Sharon and Ms Hill, who still remained in Somerset, had announced their engagement and were to be married in due course. The second was that Cdr Barnes had arrived to support Capt Rogers, and he was not alone. Mr Stone was with him, though by the faces of the household, Anthony quickly gathered that the latter’s presence was not welcome at all. Dinner was a strained affair, but his father, brother, and Miss Hansen were quite oblivious to the tension in the air. They conversed easily with Mr Stone on business, enquired after his developing acquaintance with Anthony, and were quick to make rash comments regarding Ms Hill’s advances to Lady Sharon and the vulnerability of the latter in such a state of diminished health, in spite of the presence of the latter’s aunt. At length, Her Ladyship began a counter conversation with Capt Rogers, Cdr Barnes, and Lady Natalia and was able at last to drown them out. Caught in the middle of them all, Anthony could only shrink in his seat in abject mortification. He had forgotten how truly painful such experiences could be when his family chose uncouth decorum over social grace.

Following dinner, they retired to the drawing room for reading and sherry and Anthony found himself in the company of Mr Stone, Lady Natalia, Cdr Barnes, and Capt Rogers. As he considered his companions, his heart now ached for the Captain for a different reason, imagining his disappointed heartbreak in discovering the Lady Sharon’s affections had been won by another. Perhaps the game which had caused her injury had soured her feelings for him. Yet if that were the case, Anthony imagined that Capt Rogers would find her completely justified, for though his temper had always been hot, his sense of fairness had been equally strong, and he would not blame the Lady for her censure. He was subdued as he had not been on their journey, his eyes lingering often on his drink or the fire or—and Anthony could not help but wonder if he was imagining things—Anthony himself. Twice now disappointed in love, truly the Captain painted a pitiable picture, and Anthony shuddered to think what gossip might say of him, wealthy, handsome, and with a high standing, yet unable to attain a suitable secundi partner. When the Captain did engage in conversation, he was as solicitous and well-spoken as ever he had been, but even here Anthony sensed that there was caution in his voice, especially when Mr Stone was speaking.

“I beg pardon,” he asked at one point, and Mr Stone scoffed odiously at him before continuing.

“I say, Captain, do you plan to settle in Kent? I did not expect you would make your way back here.”

“It seemed prudent at the time,” Capt Rogers conceded. “I did not want to cause Lady Sharon any undue stress, and as I have not yet secured a household, Lady Margaret was good enough to accommodate me.”

“Yes, in spite of the insult to her family.”

“Mr Stone,” Anthony interceded, very nearly stepping between the two men, “I believe we would all prefer not to remember such a dark time. Perhaps you might allow the subject to drop? Capt Rogers,” he continued, turning sharply so that his back was entirely to Mr Stone—he did not miss how Lady Natalia hid her smirk—“if you are to be in Kent for the summer, perhaps you’ll take advantage of the fishing. I seem to remember you were fond of it when you were younger, and Lady Margaret expanded the lake in your absence. It is most pleasing to row the boats out on sunny days and take in the water and the lands.”

“That does sound lovely. Perhaps you and Lady Natalia would be so kind as to join me,” Capt Rogers, replied, looking genuinely gratified that Anthony had ended a conversation which was so clearly causing him distress. Mr Stone, neatly cut out of the conversation, fumed behind Anthony’s shoulder, but maintained the semblance of a cordial air lest Lady Margaret be offended.

For the remainder of the night, Anthony did his best to be no more than coldly cordial to Mr Stone and to avoid him if at all possible. In this endeavour he had allies, for Cdr Barnes and Lady Natalia were always near to hand and quick to steer the conversation as needed, though Anthony, after months in Lady Natalia’s company, could now see how the interaction was wearing on her. Furthermore, Capt Rogers, too, now seemed wise to the social censure being pressed upon Mr Stone, and engaged Anthony with gentle conversation for much of the rest of the evening. Anthony was grateful when his father announced their departure and they at last escaped the discomfort which had unexpectedly been inflicted on them. Safely back in the manor, Anthony snuck to Lady Natalia’s quarters and spent the late hours with her, discussing what they each had learned over the course of the evening.

“Cdr Barnes was not able to speak alone with me for long, but it seems Mr Stone rather forced himself on the Commander when he departed to join Capt Rogers. He claimed he had pressing business with your brother and that it would be foolish to separate when they were both traveling to the same destination. Cdr Barnes’ parents agreed and he was forced to endure the man’s company.”

“Perhaps we should have told them of his character.”

“No. It is better that they not be troubled when the visit was already so trying for all parties involved. I do not wish to cause a fuss.”

“But Natasha, surely your comfort—“

“Nonsense, Tony. He is not staying under your roof, and now that I know to plan for him, perhaps we can avoid him. I will not abandon you to his cruelties.”

Anthony took Lady Natalia’s hand and held it tight, unspeakably grateful that he would not be alone in the manor with such a predator so very near.

“Perhaps Mr Stone will be off with my father and brother. Two Starks and a Stone, can you even imagine?”

“Rather hard-headed the lot of them, I hear.”

They snickered into the candlelight, and Anthony kissed her hand before retreating to his rooms.

The following day, much to Anthony’s chagrin, his father and brother departed with Miss Hansen, but Mr Stone remained at Lady Margaret’s residence. He called almost before the family carriage was out of the drive, and Lady Natalia contrived a walk to the village as an excuse to quit his company quickly. He offered to accompany them, but luckily, he’d come ahorseback and was not wearing the proper boots for such a long walk. They escaped his company and began to invent means by which they could avoid him over the duration of his stay. Unexpectedly, in the village Capt Rogers and Cdr Barnes provided several excellent excuses. Cdr Barnes emerged from the book store and hailed them, explaining how he hoped they would be willing to again join them for picnics as they had at his estate. “There is no ocean to be sure, but we can enjoy this sea of grass. Kent is such a green county and the summer so fair that I feel we should enjoy it as much as we can. And I’ve several new books which we can enjoy together.”

“And Master Stark,” Capt Rogers added, almost shyly, “you had suggested that fishing might be in order. Perhaps tomorrow, if the weather is agreeable, we might all row out. Her Ladyship said fish would be a most welcome change in menu, and I tend to agree with her.”

Anthony and Lady Natalia gave their hearty consent, for they knew that Cdr Barnes would be sympathetic to their plight and able to shield them from the most blatant of Mr Stone’s advances.

The very next day found them rowing out onto Her Ladyship’s lake, where Capt Rogers and Cdr Barnes cast their lines avidly, though with no clear intent for catching their quarry for they insisted almost instantly that either Lady Natalia or Anthony read a bit from the books they had brought. The men sat tranquilly at the bow of the boat while Anthony and Natasha anchored the back, and together they made their way through several chapters of a most diverting fiction. Anthony was doubly pleased that neither man scoffed at their reading preferences, and they both seemed content to listen and not to complain about disturbing potential catches.

At one point, when they had paused to sip the wine they’d brought along, Capt Rogers offered his pole to Anthony. “Have you ever tried?”

“I have not, Sir.”

“Perhaps you might give it a go? I confess I am not terribly skilled—“

“He is terrible at it,” Cdr Barnes interjected.

“—but it is nonetheless a diverting summer pastime.”

Capt Rogers carefully showed him how to bait and cast his line, and then explained how to know when a fish had caught itself on the hook. Anthony managed to send the line out some fifteen feet from the boat, and all applauded, which Cdr Barnes complained would scare off the fish, though he voiced his thought laughingly.

“I suppose there is a kind of pleasure in it,” Anthony commented as he toyed with the line to move the bait hither and yon.

“I believe so. And in truth, you need not even take the fish if you don’t like it.” Capt Rogers said, leaning over to correct Anthony’s grip.

“Oh?”

“Yes. They are still alive when you reel them in, so if you’d prefer not to kill them, you need only unhook them and let them go. Let them have their freedom.”

The way Capt Rogers spoke gave Anthony pause, and he suddenly wondered if there wasn’t some underlying sentiment there. He glanced over, caught ever so briefly in Steven—Capt Rogers’ blue gaze, and felt something in his breast flutter with new life.

“Do you find,” he asked very slowly, “that any of the fish ever wish to stay?”

“Not as yet, I’m afraid. Though one must always reserve hope. Hope, I find, sustains one much more easily than does malice.”

“Malice toward the fish, Steve? Whatever did they do to you?” Cdr Barnes joked, and with that, the moment was broken, though Anthony would recall it again and again throughout the day, wondering if he were going mad or if Capt Rogers were truly hinting at something else.

Some hours later, all of them pinked by the sun with their noses peeling, Lady Natalia pointed to the far shore. “I say. Is that Mr Stone?”

Indeed there was a figure waving to them on the banks of the lake, and Cdr Barnes scoffed. “What on earth is he doing? Does he truly expect us to row over to him there? There’s not even a dock, and I don’t fancy pushing off in mud.”

“He wants only attention,” Capt Rogers said coldly, “and I don’t believe he deserves it. Though,” he added hastily, glancing at Anthony, “if either of you would like to speak to him—“

“No!” Anthony and Natasha said instantly, and then laughed at having spoken together. Lady Natalia continued. “No, no. It’s too much trouble. In fact, I think I would rather like to go to the other end of the lake. The day is drawing on and there’s more shade to be had over there. Cdr Barnes, Capt Rogers, seafarers that you are, I wonder how quickly you can row us over there?” There was a teasing touch to her tone, and the two primi obliged her almost instantly, reeling in the lines, taking up the oars, and rowing like their lives depended upon it. Mr Stone shrank to a small figure on the far shore by the time the oars were docked, and he was soon forgotten in the pleasures of fishing and good company.

“I wonder, gentlemen,” Lady Natalia said, leaning forward fetchingly, “how you will divert us tomorrow?”

 

* * *

 

Thereafter very nearly every day Mr Barnes and Capt Rogers accompanied them into the countryside, where they all occupied themselves with books, cards, horseback riding, drawing, letter-writing, and any other activity they could think of. Mr Stone, most unfortunately, was not always avoidable and joined them on several occasions, but Cdr Barnes maintained a chilly demeanour and Capt Rogers, sensitive to the tenor of the situation, even if he did not know the specifics, was good enough to follow suit, so that Mr Stone frequently lacked a conversation partner or party to engage with.

Given that it was often just the four of them, and that Lady Natalia and Cdr Barnes were so obviously courting, Anthony found himself entertaining Capt Rogers all on his own, in an intimacy they hadn’t shared since their fateful break. Gone was the frigidity with which he’d once greeted Anthony, and in its place was some of the warmth and charm which had made him the talk of the county when first he had returned. He spoke with Anthony almost as they once had, though perhaps with less flushed ardour, and again they discovered all that they shared in interest and temperament. Anthony was grateful for all of this, for the loss of Capt Rogers’ friendship had been one of the greatest blows of his life, and to have regained it left him in good spirits, albeit frequently reflecting on all that had both suffered to reach this point.

For all that they shared a past, they were both careful to avoid speaking of it, and only once did they come close to raising such a painful subject.

“I do not recall you being such a devil with cards,” Capt Rogers remarked, trounced yet again when Lady Natalia and Anthony partnered against Cdr Barnes and he in whist.

“I did not used to be. I did not begin to seriously play until—well, there were certain circumstances. I enjoy playing piano for parties, it’s true, but I also wish to commingle with guests and cards was always a fine way to do it.”

“Does your father approve?”

“My father approves of nothing and no one, and he will tell you so himself, I’m sure. But he means well, and desires to protect the family name, I think.”

“He still does not approve of me, then, I take it.”

Anthony could sense their companions watching this exchange with a certain air of expectation, and so he chose his words carefully. “I hardly know what my father thinks, what with how little we’ve seen each other these past few months. Perhaps his demeanour has softened and when he returns he’ll be spouting sonnets to us all.”

“I shudder to think,” Capt Rogers said, “of your father delivering sonnets. Perhaps your brother will indulge us instead.”

Anthony snorted at that, and then hid his mouth, embarrassed, but everyone smiled warmly enough, and again Anthony was left with the impression that he was missing something. Unsure of himself, he quickly took up the deck and began shuffling, demonstrating a neat little trick or two he’d learned in handling cards. That proved diversion enough, and Lady Natalia blessedly changed the subject to Russian card games, consenting to teach them all a few when they tired of whist.

Lady Margaret often invited Anthony and Lady Natalia to dine, and even at her estate, where often there were other guests to mingle with, Anthony still found himself at the side of Capt Rogers. Lady Margaret was kind enough to seat them together at dinner, as though she could now sense that their animosity was at an end and was pleased to treat them once again as fast friends. Entertaining at the piano forte, playing cards, or talking together, Anthony would often look up to find Capt Rogers watching with a small soft smile upon his face. On one such occasion, Anthony put on his bravest smile and asked Capt Rogers about his ship, the Nomad.

“She is a beauty,” the Captain said, his eyes growing distant, his smile wistful. “I shall miss her immensely. There is nothing quite like standing at her bow, the sea stretching endlessly before you, the wind whipping about you. It is almost like flying. And she is a strong ship too. She weathered us through every storm and we were never crippled in battle. But,” he said, his eyes growing clearer again as he looked about the room, “there is something to be said, too, for Kent. I had forgotten what it was like here in the summer months, when everything buzzes with life and the sun drenches all in gold. Being here, it has reminded me that there are things more precious to life than a fine command.” He was gazing at Anthony as he spoke, and Anthony found himself struck dumb by the sentiment, though he could not be sure, in fact was quite sure that the Captain could not possibly mean him. It was in this moment, just after dinner, limned in candle and firelight and sharing drinks and laughter, that Anthony came to understand that his heart would always belong to Capt Rogers, no matter what the future brought. He would, for the rest of his life, wish only for Steven’s happiness, for his continued good health and fortune and any friendship which Steven might deign return him. With this understanding, a cloud of peace descended on Anthony, one which could not be breached even by Mr Stone’s increasingly harried advances.

On another night late in May, Anthony found himself cornered by Mr Stone, who had remained persistently, though Cdr Barnes had assured them privately that he had warned the man off again and again. “Tell me, Master Anthony”—he had also taken up Anthony’s Christian name, and the presumption of it irked Anthony to no end—“have you read any of these latest love verses from Mr ————. Let me share them with you.” Mr Stone declaimed several of the sonnets and then looked expectantly at Anthony, waiting for his pronouncement.

“The verses are well enough, but I do wonder at all these poets who claim that secundi are fickle creatures. It my experience it has never been the secundi’s affections that have wavered, but rather the primi’s. Secundi, once their loyalty is earned, rarely seem to seek out new conquests.”

“I should wonder at that,” Mr Stone said, his smile erring toward a sneer as he snapped the book closed, “given how your affections seem to have chilled of late.”

“You are quite mistaken, Sir. My affections are where they ever were, and I daresay have not wavered in nearly a decade. The primi who have approached me, however, have all moved on, though at the time they professed great affection.”

“Do you mean to say you have been approached?”

“You can hardly be surprised, Sir. Do not think I do not know that my father and brother endeavoured to have us meet with just such an aim in mind. I have had offers, but I have not accepted them.

“But you say your affections have not wavered? Who holds them, then? A certain Lieutenant Colonel? You must know he already has a scandalous connection.”

The conversation had become far too forward for Anthony’s liking, but he knew not how to free himself from it. Lady Natalia was again at Cdr Barnes’ side, and the Danvers, who had joined them, were all occupied with a hand of cards, which the Duchess presided over with the air of a magistrate. Where Capt Rogers was, Anthony could not quite discern and wondered if he had stepped away for a moment. However, as others’ attentions were preoccupied, Anthony took a moment to speak more frankly than he might have otherwise.

“My feelings, Mr Stone, are quite my own, and I keep them close out of prudence. I wonder if you can claim the same?” With a sniff and a huff, Anthony turned away, intent on excusing himself for a moment, only to discover Capt Rogers at his back, some feet away, but certainly close enough to have heard the exchange. But how much of it had he heard? By his expression, Anthony could hardly begin to guess, and he felt heat in his cheeks. He bowed and quickly ducked around the Captain, fleeing for the hallway where he startled a gossiping maid and footman. He did not stop until he stood out of doors, the cool air of the summer evening striking his bared throat and neck and shocking him into stillness.

He remained there until chills began to run down his spine and then forced himself to return to the company, where he was pleased to learn that Mr Stone had retired for the evening. Shortly thereafter, he and Lady Natalia also made their exit, but Anthony could not shake his chill, and he could not tell if it was one of excitement or one of fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://arukou-arukou.tumblr.com/) for more fanfiction and nerdery.


	8. Ch 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Capt Rogers makes his feelings known and Mr Stone remains persistent.

Anthony’s chill remained with him through the night, and by morning his chest was squeezing most painfully, his breath hissing out in a wheeze. It had been so long since last he had an episode that he could scarcely believe it, and he did not know whether to blame his poor health upon the cold temperatures of the previous night or the anxieties Mr Stone had induced within him. He rang up his maid, dispatched her with notice to the household and to Lady Natalia of his own sorry condition, and returned to bed where he tossed restlessly in his sheets, sweating and shivering in turn. Lady Natalia came and visited him herself, bearing a tray of tea, a snifter of suspiciously strong smelling liquid, and a soup which she claimed was a Russian cure-all. She remained by his side more than an hour, reading to him and soothing his brow, and then retreated downstairs when the guest bell rang. She was away some time, but when she returned, she bore upon her person two letters, one from Lt Col Rhodes and one from—Anthony could scarcely read the hasty scrawl—Capt Rogers. Caught in the greatest of fears and agonies, Anthony stared at the latter letter long and hard, contemplating all that it might contain, and coward that he was, he elected to open Jim’s missive first.

_Dear Tony,_

_I miss you, chap. Following Capt Barnes’ exit, I removed myself to the inn to look over Lady Sharon and Ms Hill, who remained chaperoneless. Ms Barnes told me my retreat was quite unnecessary, but I do not like unduly burdening such a kind family, especially with their daughter fluttering her eyelashes at me. I daresay, Tony, now that I have a lady love, I find that the only eyes I desire to look into are hers. In any case, I hope you’ll forgive me for being so tardy in writing to you that I could not warn you about Mr Stone, who I’m sure has already darkened your doorstep. Capt Danvers is back at sea, and I am quite distracted with the reports that come to me, and I know that is now excuse, but that is the matter of it. Guard yourself, Tony, for Mr Stone’s intentions must be sour indeed if he is so determined in his pursuit. Lady Sharon is entirely recouped and we soon will be setting off for Kent—she insists she was safe to travel weeks ago, but I have heeded the surgeon and begged her wait—where I expect shortly after we shall attend the wedding. I’m sure it will be a terribly grand affair. Be safe, my Tony, and if a suitor should come knocking, be sure it is the right one._

_Yours,_

_Jim_

Lt Col Rhodes’ final sentence was so circumspect that Anthony could hardly take the meaning of it. There was no mention of Capt Rogers at all, and yet between the lines, Anthony could sense the knowledge of him, a ghost which lingered in the pages like a fairy light at the corner of his eye. He longed to know what Jim was _not_ saying, but would not be able to ask him for a good long time yet. Beside him, Capt Rogers letter remained, the handwriting so different from what Anthony could remember. He traced the jagged “Mst A. S.” upon the face of the paper and noted the way the ink did not flow smoothly but instead bled out on the right-hand side as though the pen had been under duress. Chest aching, Anthony at last broke the wax seal and peered within.

_Master Anthony, Tony,_

_I beg your pardon, but I must tell you, through the only means I have left. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me that you spoke truly to that wretched man yesterday, that your heart has remained constant regardless all my cruelties and spite. I offer myself to you as a man who knows that his own heart has never wavered in the eight years it has been since you refused me. I have loved none but you. I beg you forgive me for the callous way in which I treated you when first we met again. I was weak and spiteful, and learned too late that all pain I caused you I caused doubly to myself. I am returned to Kent only for you. Do you see what I mean? Can you not know? Sir, I would take it back, all of it and more, if only to see you smile again as you did in Highbridge with the sun upon your face. I had scarcely dared to hope that you might feel for me as I do for you, but your words yesterday caused me to hope. You are my beacon, my light in the harbour, and I will steer ever toward you if only you will have me. Please believe that my heart and soul yearn only for you. I dare not enter, given the ague which I’m told has befallen you, but I shall call again tomorrow and the next day until you are fit to see me, at which point, a look, a word, that shall be all I need to know whether I must call again or never._

_Yours, truly yours,_

_Steve_

If before, Anthony had been in a state of discomfort, he was now given nearly to fainting, so greatly was his heart affected. He read the letter again, and a third time, trying to come about to a peaceful state of mind, a calm with which he might approach this new and unexpected turn. He could scarcely believe—but then, Capt Rogers, no Steven, Steve had been constant to him all this time. He had not strayed, and what of Lady Sharon? But no. He called it a cruelty, an action taken to deliberately inflict upon Anthony some of the pain Steve himself must have felt all those years ago, and moreover, an action which Steve regretted having taken. He would have read the letter a fourth time if Lady Natalia had not returned, her cheeks flushed and her brow thunderously drawn.

“Mr Stone has called,” she told him, seating herself at his side and taking up his hands. “I have done everything I can think of to drive him away, but he is a horrible man, and he will not leave without pressure from a peer. What can we do, Tony?”

“He knows I am ill?”

“He says that is why he has called! The gall! He insists that his heart will not rest easy until he has seen you.”

“Out of the question. He cannot be allowed up here.”

“Your butler is with him now, keeping him from getting up to mischief, but short of stabbing him with my hatpin, I do not know what I can do!”

“Natasha,” he murmured, scandalized, but at the same time pleased with the suggestion. “Have one of the grooms ride for Lady Margaret’s estate. He must bring Capt Rogers at once, or if not Capt Rogers, Cdr Barnes. The former will come if I call on him, and the latter will come for you.” Anthony hastily scrawled out a note— _Mr Stone at manor, send aid! Mst A. S. and Lady N. A. R_ —and gave it to Lady Natalia. “My dear, forgive me. I wish to save you from his presence.”

Lady Natalia bent and kissed his forehead, smiling at him, though her colour remained high. “I shall entertain the brute, but I do hope it’s James who comes. I suspect he has been waiting for an excuse to challenge the man, and I daresay Mr Stone is too much of a coward to accept.” She exited the room and Anthony called for his maid in order to go about dressing. He still felt feverish and poorly, but if they were to be receiving even more guests, albeit guests involved in the venture of making clear to Mr Stone once and for all that his presence was not welcome and he was to leave Kingston immediately, never to return. Anthony would have to contrive a way to warn Lady Margaret of his unsavoury character and ensure that she too barred him from the town, and possibly from all of Kent if it were within her power to do so.

Dressed, Anthony sat at his personal writing desk, flipping idly through a book but unable to concentrate. From his window, he apprehended the moment when Capt Rogers and Cdr Barnes appeared in the company of the groom, all three of them horseback and riding with great speed. Anthony was arrested by the sight, by the fine figure Steven cut, one hand to his hat and the other handling his steed with easy practice, by the obvious urgency he must have felt in coming to Anthony’s aid. Carefully, Anthony took to his feet and descended to his private study, listening carefully to the sounds of the lower floors, trying to discern any hint at all of what drama may be occurring. At one point, he thought he detected raised voices, but the wind was high and he was unsure if it was only his mind playing tricks upon him. A maid called with tea for him, but he couldn’t bring it to his lips, so agonized he was by the whole of the situation that his hand shook uncontrollably.

On the horizon, clouds billowed and blew in, casting what had been a fair morning into a gloomy afternoon, and Anthony could smell rain in the air. At last, he caught sight of a figure riding away from the manor, and by his height and build, Anthony was sure it was Mr Stone. They had driven him away then, or so he hoped. A few minutes later, Lady Natalia found him and came to his side at once.

“It is done. The brute has been banished once and for all. May his shadow never darken our doorsteps again.” She said more in Russian, and Anthony imagined, by the tenor, that it was a good deal darker than what she’d spoken in English.

“And our valiant heroes?” he asked, and wondered if his voice, if his shaking lungs, gave away his depth of feeling or if they sounded only of illness.

“In the drawing room. James has invited me to dine at the Duchess’ estate, but I don’t feel right leaving you.”

“Nonsense, Natasha. If you’ll forgive my boldness, you love him, do you not? I would not part you from him if I can help it.”

She arched her brow most mysteriously, but the smile that hovered about her lips spoke volumes and Anthony could not but be happy for her.

“And Capt Rogers?”

“He asked after you. He wishes you the quickest recovery and went on at length about your youths, when you were both frail and prone to long spells of bedrest. Tony, I daresay—“

“Do not say it, Natasha. Please do not. I hardly can bear to think it, let alone have the words uttered aloud.” She took his hand and squeezed it tightly.

“Courage, dear Tony. He did not ask to see you, but I believe he would wait here all day for only a glimpse of you.”

“I am not well enough yet. I long to see him, to speak with him, but I do not wish him to see me in this state. I have peered in the mirror, Natasha, and I know I look a ghost.”

“Have you a note for him?”

“I do not.”

She pursed her lips at him, but then rose. “I shall return to them. You are certain, Tony?”

“Please tell him I am sorry. Them. Tell them I am sorry.”

Lady Natalia nodded and exited and almost at once, Anthony was gripped by the palpitations of his heart. His chest squeezed in on him like the worst of corsets, and his blood beat loudly against his ears, so that he feared the fit would do him in. “What is this?” he murmured to himself again and again, pressing his palm to his heart, willing his body to calm itself. He should not have risen, but he had been compelled by the very nearness of Steven, and fool that he was, he had then refused to see the man! “Fool, Tony!” he cursed himself and breathed through his nose like an angry bull, waiting for calm to come to him. Rather than calm, though, he was struck with restlessness, a sudden desire to rise and walk and match the churning of his mind with the churning of his feet. Even simply standing eased the ache within him, and he was forced to wonder if this attack had nothing at all to do with his weak heart and rather everything to do with the man in the drawing room.

Without meaning to, Anthony somehow found himself in the grand foyer and then out on the grounds themselves, where the wind whirled about him, sending his hair into a tumble and whipping the tails of his coat about his legs. Unseeing, Anthony walked forward into the gale in the general direction of the village. He walked he did not know how long until suddenly there were hands upon his shoulder, tight and warm and demanding.

“Master Anthony? Master Anthony? Tony!” A voice in his ear, the very voice he both longed for and dreaded, for he felt himself upon a precipice, and in turning, he found he had leapt off.

“Steven?”

“What possessed you? The storm is almost upon us and you are in ill health!”

“Your letter. I—“

“Later. We must get you back to the manor.”

Steven handed Anthony up onto his horse side-saddle and then mounted behind him, holding him tight with one arm while he took the reins in the other. His hat, if he had had it, was long gone, taken by the wind, and Anthony was struck by the length of his hair, stray strands flailing in the wind. His warmth, the passionate entreaty of his letter, his kind if proud heart—in that moment, Anthony understood that it was not a dream or a fantasy, that Steven did indeed love him still and that he wished them to be united, two souls as one. The wind howled about them, and as Steven urged his horse into a canter, the first drops of rain fell. Anthony huddled more closely into Steven’s chest, feeling the very picture of foolishness even as he again was reminded of Steven’s whole-hearted devotion, a gift which Anthony did not intend to toss away a second time.

They arrived at the stables of the manor as the rain turned into a torrent, and the stable boy gawped at the two of them, both soaked through with damp and chill. Lady Natalia waited at the door to the foyer, her countenance a mix of trepidation and frustration—likely with Anthony’s folly—and she urged them both upstairs, Anthony to his room and Steven to a guest room, where dry clothes were arranged and piping hot baths drawn. Word was sent to Lady Margaret that due to the rain, no one would be able to join her for dinner, and Lady Natalia tended to Anthony herself, tisking at him for his foolhardiness and scrubbing rather more violently than necessary at his skin. Cowed, Anthony sat quietly, but still his mind was on Steven, and he could scarcely follow any thread of conversation. His chest ached dully, and when he reported this to Lady Natalia, she traded his formal clothes for bedclothes and forced him beneath the counterpane. A maid stoked up the fire until the room glowed redly with its warmth and comforting crackle, while outside the storm raged before dying off into a more sedate—if no less heavy—drizzle. From time to time lightning still lit the sky and thunder rumbled in the distance, but safely inside, Anthony felt far away from the violence of nature, and so very close the object of his affections.

Lady Natalia returned after dinner, reporting that both Capt Rogers and Cdr Barnes were staying the night, what with the weather still too inclement for them to return. She then, without any further mention of their guests, opened a book and began to read to him. However, fifteen minutes into the book, she abruptly stood and went to the door, opening it to reveal Capt Rogers, who jumped back in a state of surprise and abashment.

“I can hear you,” Lady Natalia informed him sourly, though Anthony knew there was a curl of amusement in her voice as well, “and I know you will not rest until you have seen that he is as well as can be.”

Steven played with the hem of his jacket in such a boyish fashion that Anthony was carried into the past, when Steven had still been thin and frail and terribly aware of his low station in the company of higher ranked society. After a moment, though, he suddenly stood up straighter, squared his shoulders, and became the Captain whom Anthony had grown accustomed to seeing the past eight months.

“I’m sorry to intrude. I simply wanted to check in on Master Anthony and ensure that the rain had not exacerbated his ailment.”

“Not at all,” Anthony said hastily, very nearly standing before Lady Natalia put a firm hand on his shoulder and shoved him back against his pillows. “In fact, I’m feeling a good deal better. A good deal better.”

“That is well,” Steven said, and between them there passed something so strong that Anthony very nearly tried to rise again. He did not dare say what he wished to say, though he could see plainly enough that Lady Natalia already knew their hearts better than they themselves knew them. What Anthony had to say, however, was for Steven alone, and he would hold his tongue until opportunity presented itself. In lieu of any grand speech, he instead asked, “And you, Steven? Are you well?” The question felt a great deal more weighted than he had intended, especially as he’d used Steven’s Christian name, but he could not take it back now.

“I am quite well. Quite well.”

Awkwardly they descended into silence while Lady Natalia stood between them, and though Anthony could see only the barest hint of her face, he could see that she found their lack of loquaciousness amusing. A log cracked in the fireplace, and Steven jumped ever so slightly. “Forgive me for intruding. I hope I shall see you in the morning.” He bowed, caught Anthony’s eye one last time, and then retreated.

The moment the door was shut, Lady Natalia turned to him and batted him on the head with her book. “Is it any wonder it has taken you so long to find happiness together. It’s a miracle you can speak to the man at all.”

“You don’t understand, Natasha. When we were younger, it was different. When we were younger, I had not yet broken his heart.”

“Well now that you are older I hope you have learned your lesson. There is nothing worse than a moping man, and I do not wish to have him making my time with James dreary.”

“Natasha!”

“It is true! That is why you must tell him you love him and be done with it. Yes? Yes! Now I shall read to you, and you shall sleep, and in the morning, if you are better, you shall make love to your primi.”

Anthony was unsure if Lady Natalia knew the full implication of her words—he suspected she did, but did not dare ask her—and instead tucked himself deeper into his bed and allowed her to have her way. He was learning every day how very formidable a lady she was, and he suspected if she desired it, she could very well make countries bend to her will. It was lucky, then, that she had decided only to focus her attentions on Cdr Barnes. She read to Anthony another thirty minutes or so and then bid him a good night, calling a maid to bank the fire and leaving him to rest. Left alone with his thoughts, Anthony suddenly found himself exhausted, but also full in a way he could not quite articulate, his chest as tight as it had been before, but in a manner akin to a pleasant and deep stretch or a breath of spring flowers, and with that heavy and comforting warmth within him, sleep was quick to come.

In the morning, he felt a great deal better, and after only a small fuss from Lady Natalia, he dressed and descended for breakfast. At the table with their guests, Anthony sensed that all of them were filled with a kind of steady and thrumming joy, not the effervescent and impulsive love of youth but rather a mature love, one which settled in the breast to keep company on cold winter nights or dreary summer days, one which did not waver in the face of illness or poverty, social pressures or familial censures. Under its glow, they all shared a congenial meal, of the sort Anthony expected to continue for years to come. He knew it in his heart.

Just as the dishes were cleared away, the clouds broke to watery sunlight, which shewn down on the fields with the golden radiance of a summer morning.

“Brilliant,” exclaimed Cdr Barnes, folding his paper and setting it aside. “Being cooped up does us no good whatsoever. Master Anthony, I do not know if you are well enough to walk, but at the very least perhaps a ride? A carriage ride even?”

Cdr Barnes was clearly restless, or perhaps only eager to be alongside Lady Natalia without the prying ears of servants, but Anthony too felt such a need—he believed horseback would not be out of the question, and as such assented. The horses were readied and then they were off, riding away from the village toward the orchards which abutted the Stark manor. The moment they were out of view of civilization, Cdr Barnes and Lady Natalia cantered a bit ahead, riding side by side and bowing their heads toward each other, the picture of a happy couple. Anthony wondered if he, alongside Steven, mirrored the effect.

“Do you think,” he began, “that they will be married before the year is out?”

“Given what James says, I suspect they’ll be married before the month is out. The Lady has no family to object, and Ms Barnes is fond of Lady Natalia. I think they wait only until the Lady Sharon and Ms Hill are returned, so that the shadow of Lady Sharon’s injury does not haunt the nuptials.”

“I wish them a fine and happy life. The Lady deserves it, especially after the ills that have befallen her family in Russia.”

As though he could bear it no longer, Steven reached across the space between them and took Anthony’s hand in the most delicate of grips, as though he cradled a spider web between his fingers. “Forgive me. It seems I will always be an impatient man. But you had mentioned my letter—I know it is all terribly untoward but—“

“Yes, Steven. Yes.” Anthony at last looked up into Steven’s flushed face, willing him to see the love and devotion there.

“Yes?”

“Heavens, Steve, yes.”

“You are certain I—“

“Captain Steven Grant Rogers, I would like nothing more than to be your husband.”

Steven paused a moment then, and then laughed, shaking his head, his eyes down on their joined hands. “I hadn’t even proposed. I was supposed to propose to you.”

“Well, now I’ve proposed to you, and you have only to give me an answer.”

“But you are sure? Even after all the pain I caused you?”

“I caused you pain, as well, Steven. We were both foolish, but let us not forget that it was I who transgressed first.”

“With good reason.”

Anthony paused for a moment, caught between remorse and mirth, but then he let mirth win out. “I suppose we shall spend the rest of our lives apologizing to each other for our hard-headed foolishness.”

“I am certain we shall.”

They rode on a bit, the horses champing at being so close, and so they relinquished their clasped hands for a more comfortable ride.

“If I may,” Anthony said after a time, “and please know that you need not answer if you wish not to, but did you not have feelings for Lady Sharon?”

“Not at all, though I tried to convince myself I did. I was a brute, truly, for my intention was to hurt you, and only too late did I realize that my actions were not those of a gentleman but those of a child, throwing a tantrum because he could not honour the wishes of another. And my brashness led to Lady Sharon’s injury, which is also unforgivable. I am glad Ms Hill was there to nurse her back to health, and I am gladder still that they have found happiness in each other, for I could not have provided that warmth of feeling to her.”

“And you chose to voice your feelings to me—“

“Because of what you said to Mr Stone. I had feared you had feelings for him, or perhaps for Lady Whitney, and if that were the case, I would have held my silence, because I wish only for your contentment Anthony, dearest Tony, but when you told him that your affections belonged to another, that they had belonged to another for many years, I could be silent no longer. I had to know if it was not too late.”

“I am glad that you spoke, Steven. So very glad.”

They rode on in the summer sunshine until Cdr Barnes and Lady Natalia appeared again in front of them, looking as pleased and at peace as they themselves were, and then they rode back to the manor for a light luncheon. When they arrived in the stables, the stable boy was nowhere to be seen, and so Steven handed down Anthony, and in that moment, very gently kissed him. The thrill of it was so immense that Anthony was sure he might burst at any moment, and only when Lady Natalia cleared her throat most demandingly did Steven relinquish is hold on Anthony’s waist. At the table, when the servants had cleared away, Cdr Barnes ventured, “Perhaps we might have a double wedding. Wouldn’t that be splendid? And it would make for a merrier party, for Lady Natalia’s relations are few and yours are as well Steve.”

“We must first secure a blessing, so I beg you not speak of it again until Anthony’s father has given his consent,” Steven said tartly, with a quick glance toward the door where he feared a footman might be lurking.

“Father and Gregory are to return soon. Tuesday I believe. In the meantime, we should make the most of the summer weather when it graces us. I had forgotten what a joy it was to ride—we walk so often and the horses need exercise, too, I’m sure—and I felt today that the time out of doors did me good.”

“So long as you do not overtax yourself,” Lady Natalia warned, just as Steven spoke to similar effect. Laughter was shared at the table, and they spent some time in the drawing room before Cdr Barnes and Steven excused themselves to return to the Duchess’ estate and report the goings on in the Stark family. Without the primi about, Anthony and Lady Natalia took an early supper and retired to Anthony’s study for the evening where they were able to speak more freely, and speak they did, Anthony breathlessly and Lady Natalia tartly, albeit fondly. She was not given to effusion as Anthony was, but they were united in their contentment and affections, and spent a rather embarrassing amount of time combing love poetry to find those verses which best suited their respective moods. It was late when they retired, and even in the privacy of his own rooms, the sense of brimming bubbling happiness did not escape him. He was quite certain it would remain with him the rest of his days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sharp readers will note that this is the only chapter in which I've consciously borrowed from Ms. Austen's own words (I may have unconsciously done it elsewhere.) It's pretty hard to top Wentworth's letter. Also, surprise double-post!
> 
> For more fanfiction and nerdery, find me on [tumblr](http://arukou-arukou.tumblr.com/).


	9. Ch 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

_Epilogue_

Despite Cdr Barnes suggestion of a double wedding, Steven and Anthony were married first, in early August at the local church, all the sooner so that they might move to Steven’s new holdings in Somerset, a property called Brookline very near the Barnes estate and blessedly far from the Stark estate. Steven’s wedding gift to Anthony was a room of his own, fitted with drafting table and all manner of tools, as well as a great many books on shipbuilding and nautical technology, great leather tomes which smelled of age and knowledge and enchantment. Anthony’s gift to Steven was a fine black cold-blood with a white blaze and socks, who, though less flashy than the thoroughbreds more popular with the nobility, nonetheless was hardy and suited to the harsh conditions of the blustering coastline, and whose gentle temperament put Anthony at ease when he imagined his husband riding for sport and hunting.

Installed in their new home, they received many guests and visits in rapid succession, not the least of which included the Duchess and her newly married niece, as well as Lt Col Rhodes and Capt Danvers, Lady Janet, and the Barnes family. Indeed, on any given day, at least one member of the Barnes family often graced their doorstep, most frequently the Commander and his betrothed, but also Mg Barnes and his daughters, Rebecca, Carol, and Danielle, all three of whom were terribly fond of Anthony and urged him into picnics and walks down to the stony shoreline.

Now that he was settled, Steven received a great many invitations and propositions from all manner of folk they had never met before, but eager to secure their place in society, Steven was judicious with his time, commitments, and investments, and very soon their income began to grow. At the time of Cdr Barnes and Lady Natalia’s wedding in early October, he had committed to the winter season in town, where he and Anthony would be entertaining members of the military elite and establishing a charity for orphaned children, and soon after the nuptials, they and the Barnes departed to London.

In all his dealings, Steven relied heavily on Anthony’s opinion, consulting him not as a servant or inferior, but as an equal and a lover, and Anthony could not help but note how time had taught both of them forbearance, prudence, patience, and level-headedness. He did not like to speculate upon the past, but he could not help but wonder if they had married sooner if their marriage wouldn’t have been a torrent of fitful pique and strife, and though he still regretted the pain they had mutually inflicted upon each other, he was glad that they had both received the life experience which now served them so well in affairs of business and society. This was not to say that they never quarrelled at all, for they were both proud men and could still cling to stubbornness like a pair of asses, but more often than not their fights were healed by a night’s rest and a good long walk along the coast, often in the company of the wolfhounds Steven had acquired for hunting.

In London, they were still forced to endure Mr Stark and Gregory’s company from time to time, and though their poor manners and generally unpleasant demeanours were as persistent as ever, Anthony need only hear his husband call, “Mg Rogers, my dear, could you please come here,” then he was reminded that he was free of their repressive yoke forevermore, free to live and laugh and be with his beloved the rest of his days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it! Thank you for all your kind comments. I'll be trying to give my inbox some attention shortly.

**Author's Note:**

> World-building notes [here](http://arukou-arukou.tumblr.com/post/170199902251/primisecundi-notes).
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](http://arukou-arukou.tumblr.com/) for more fanfiction and nerdery.


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